Rhythm and Rous
by The-Queen-of-Fantasy
Summary: A southern Louisiana monster brings the Winchesters in to save the day, as usual. But the circumstances call for the new women they've met to hang around for awhile, and finding a pace with new friends is often difficult. But as Sam and Dean discover, these friends can turn out to be invaluable. Set in s2, Dean\OC Sam\OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hello friends! I've been gone awhile, but here I am back with a new fandom to contribute to! (Seriously, how did y'all hide this incredible show from me for so long?)**

**Feel free to leave your thoughts, critiques, and questions in the comments.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 1

The French Quarter was already bustling by high noon, seeing as New Orleans is quite the summer tourist destination. Carriage rides, beignets, bars open since morning, the whole nine yards. From her second-story window, Heather Beaumont was people watching as she finished sweeping.

Not distracted for long, though, she soon got back to straightening up. She had a guest coming over soon, and wanted her place looking pristine. It was her mom's condo, really, but she was using it while home for the summer. Why not a little free rent in so ideal a location?

Heather finished the major cleaning, and took a long drink from her water bottle. Making one last check through the condo, she hummed a few lines from a radio song before collapsing on her bed. She was an early riser, sure, but heavy-duty housework could wear anybody out. With her alarm set, she closed her eyes for a brief nap.

Once she woke up, Heather searched through her mail and pulled out the newspaper, flipping through to a few of the interesting articles. She pulled off her sweatshirt that read _Berkeley _across the front just as the doorbell rang. Her watch read 2:30, not surprisingly as her friend was always punctual.

"Erica!" she beamed as she opened the door. The two young women hugged and they made their way for the couches.

Erica leaned into the plush pillows. "I'm so glad to see you, Heather. It's been awhile."

"A few years since you were last out in California." Heather mused, regretting not keeping in better touch with her old high school friend.

"Law school still treating you well?"

"As always. I finally graduate in December, though, and I'll be glad to be done with it. Time to get out there in the real world!"

"I suppose so." Her friend gave a wry smile. "You got a job lined up yet?"

"No, I'm still looking in a few places. But enough about me, how have you spent your time? Still roaming the country?"

Erica grinned as the twisted truth came easily off her lips. "Yeah, still with odd-jobs like my mom and dad. Pest control, mechanical work, whatever comes up."

"I don't know how you do it. But I do admire your nonconformity to the rest of us career robots." Heather offered with a laugh.

They spent the afternoon catching up, trading stories on family and work and maybe the occasional lover. Coffee was brewed, laughs rang out, and the sun had almost dipped behind the levee before Erica stood and reached for her bag.

"I'm gonna take my leave now, Heather. Mom's not expecting me 'til tomorrow morning, but I may as well give her a little surprise."

"Tell her I said hey." Heather said as they embraced. "And maybe you could convince her to send you with some of her oatmeal cookies when you come by tomorrow?"

"Sure thing, I'm sure she'd be glad to. Alright girl, I'll see you about nine." And the door shut firmly behind her.

Heather sighed, heading for the kitchen to wash out the mugs. She spent the rest of her evening calling friends around town, chatting away while the news played in the background.

She awoke with a start to a few strong knocks on her door. Finding herself still on the couch, she looked at the wall clock that read 11:30. "Who on earth wants me at this hour?" She mulled as she ran a hand through her short blonde locks.

Looking through the peephole she saw a middle-aged man standing there, arms folded and leg bouncing. His skin was rather pale, and in the strange lighting his eyes seemed tinted red.

"Can I help you?" Heather called through the door.

"I need to speak with you, ma'am."

"Well, um," she laughed faintly, "I'm sure you'll understand my hesitance. Could you give me some ID or something?"

His face deadpanned, eyes locked on the peephole. To Heather it felt like he could see back through it and was staring straight at her. "I need you to open the door now."

"I'm gonna have to ask you to come back in the morning. Goodbye, sir."

She turned and headed for her phone to alert the building security, but didn't make it four steps before the door broke open with a loud _crack_. Heather tried to scream but the man was too fast. His hand clamped over her mouth and nose, and it didn't take him long for him to grab the nearest lamp and raise it over his head.

For a split second Heather looked at his face, and was terrified to see his skin was indeed grossly pale and splotched, and his eyes a deep red color.

Then a sharp pain bit her left temple, and everything went black.

* * *

><p>When Heather woke up, her head was throbbing. She reached up to massage the pain away, only to find that she couldn't move either of her arms. Or legs. Her eyes snapped open and she was gripped with terror as she found herself bound to a chair in a dimly lit room.<p>

Suddenly she remembered the man and his eyes and the lamp, and her eyes welled up. She wanted to scream for help but she did not want that…thing to come for her. It didn't matter, though, for she soon heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Heather did her best to steel her nerves, but that didn't stop her breath from catching and a tear rolling down her cheek when he came in the room.

"You're awake. Good." He then looked her in the face. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. I don't intend to. We're just waiting for your friend to show up."

"M-my friend?"

He nodded. "Erica, I believe, is her name."

Heather's heart dropped. "Why do you want her? She doesn't know where I am."

"Oh, she'll find us soon." He pulled his shirt down far enough to show a healing wound over his heart. "The bitch that can put this in me will find us with no trouble."

"Erica did that to you?" She almost felt like she could laugh. "Look, buddy, I don't think she's ever –"

"Whatever you think is wrong! I'm ending this girl as soon as she walks up the stairs!" He strode over to Heather, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back, earning a yelp. He held up what looked like a security camera photo of a woman that was definitely Erica.

Heather's mind was spinning.

The man pulled her hair back further. "But if she happens to not come soon enough," he dipped his head and gave one long sniff at the base of her neck, "your blood will have to do." He released her and stomped out of the room.

It was once again silent, except now Heather didn't try to hide her crying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 2

Even after several hours of hugging and laughter, Erica could still hear the blaring car horns from the hectic traffic battle to see her loved ones. She didn't hate big cities necessarily, she just preferred the open road. Where there were no other cars and miles of seemingly endless highway, that's where she spent most of her life; that's what she loved.

Heather had been her first stop upon arriving home. It had been entirely too long since the high school friends had been together. Even if Erica wasn't a hunter and had chosen to stay with her family, Heather still went to grad school clear across the country.

The caring and nurturing friend never failed to make Erica content in her presence. Maybe it was the fact that her life was so set and simple. Erica never wanted that for herself, but it made her happy to see it in others. That was her job after all.

To keep people safe.

Her younger sister, Maureen, had full out tackled Erica to the ground when she'd finally made her way to their house on the edge of the grand city.

Erica caught herself easily, rolling the smaller girl beneath her. Their caramel hair mixed together around them in a pool. Erica grinned with pride. "You've gotten stronger," She commented helping her sister to her feet. Their father came into the room with his smile stretching the faded scar on his jaw into a half moon.

"She's better than you if I dare say, pumpkin." Erica ran to give her father a quick hug.

Just like that they fell into their familiar roles as a family. Her parents had raised her as a hunter. They understood exactly why she had to stay away for so long.

Erica was scrubbing the last of the utensils. Maureen tapped her fingers impatiently, swinging the drying rag around her like a weapon. Their parents ran into the room, faces white. Their mom clutched her laptop between her small hands.

Maureen and Erica reacted instantly. "What happened?" Maureen inquired, ever quick with her words. "Erica, pumpkin," her dad started cautiously. Erica froze only a moment when they turned the screen to her. _Woman Kidnapped from French Quarter Townhouse. _Heather's picture was right underneath. The title of the local news report was enough for Erica. She snapped out of her haze and grabbed her sweatshirt and keys.

"Can I come with you?" Maureen asked. "No," their father replied before Erica raced out the door.

She pulled up the article on her phone as she ran through the less crowded streets of New Orleans. It was late at night, anyone who didn't want to end up in a similar article to Heather was inside.

Forced entry with claw marks left around the door frame. Unidentified flaking and grey skin flakes on the wooden floors. Erica didn't need to look up what had taken her friend. She had seen these exact marks when she'd first encountered it a few days earlier. It had been a Glawackus in Massachusetts. But she had put a silver bullet through its heart; she had killed it.

Or had she?

There was no blood in the condo, just a busted lamp. That didn't stop the uneasy knot from forming in Erica's stomach. She pulled out her phone dialing Bobby Singer. While her parents were hunters, they were only so experienced.

"Lacour," he answered swiftly. "Bobby I need help." She swallowed the tremor in her voice, knowing she had to stay calm.

"Sure, however I can help." A small relief settled in her. Bobby was always so reliable for her. "I thought I was dealing with a Glawakus up in Massachusetts but I don't think so anymore."

"Why's that?" Bobby questioned.

"It didn't stay dead. It followed me to New Orleans and took my friend."

There was a rustle of papers from his end. "Describe everything about it you can remember." He instructed.

Erica sighed and sat down on the cold floor to give her legs a break from the long run. She pulled at her grey leggings which were sticky with sweat.

"It liked to munch on humans. It had red eyes and decaying skin. I tried to put a bullet in its chest but I guess that didn't stick."

Bobby hummed in response. "The Glawakus are known to reside in that area," he agreed. Erica heard a thump and then a muffled voice over the phone. "Sounds like a Rougarou," a deep male voice commented. "You know how to kill that Sam?" She made out Bobby's response. He must be covering the receiver.

She jumped when Bobby's voice came back louder than before. "You don't happen to have any Argan oil on you?"

"I have no idea what that is, Bobby."

"Ok listen, I've got two of my best men here with me. They have the oil and they're willing to help you?" "We are?" A different voice came over the phone.

"Bobby who are they?" Erica was very cautious about the people she worked with. But if Bobby vouched for them, they couldn't be too bad.

"Sam and Dean Winchester. They can be there by tomorrow night. Meanwhile you track down where this thing took your friend." Erica nodded to the empty condo rubbing the back of her neck. "Thanks, Bobby."

She hung up and immediately tugged off her black boots. The tiny gun she kept in there had left an angry red mark on her calf from the vigorous run. She set it on the desk beside where Heather's laptop sat. She was in for a long night.

Erica decided that it was in fact a trap because the Rougarou couldn't be stupid enough to leave Heather's cell phone on. It was only a matter of tracking it to a house off Magazine St.

She allowed herself precious sleep once she was sure she had located her friend. When she awoke she found she still had a few hours before the two other hunter arrived. She decided to try and see who they were.

Erica typed Sam and Dean Winchester into the search bar. The first link? Mug shots. "My god, I'm working with children?" What hunter is so incompetent as to not be able to cover up his tracks? They had more than one run in with the law she discovered. Each cite she clicked made her more uneasy about working with them and more relieved it was only for a one time hunt.

Then one page caught her eye. It was a blog entitled _Demon Sam Winchester. _She expected it to be a bunch of random crap not even about the man she was waiting for. But there was his picture, same as the one Bobby had forwarded to her.

According to the blog, Sam had demon's blood dripped into his mouth as an infant and due to it possessed certain psychic abilities that tied him to the demon trying to raise Hell. Erica texted Bobby swiftly to disband the rumors and set her mind at ease. His responses, however, did anything but. 'You'll have to ask him yourself.'

Erica's nails dug into her calves. Every instinct in her said to call it off. Any part demon was too much. But then there was a knock on the condo door.

She wrapped her hand around the cool metal of the gun using its presence to focus her on the situation at hand. She tucked it under her sweatshirt and moved soundlessly over to the peephole. Dean's cheeky grin was pressed right up against the opening. She jerked back the door, not smiling when he stumbled at the sudden loss of support.

"You're early," she spoke.

"Not much traffic." Dean replied coolly.

"He broke every traffic law he could think of." Sam butted in. His voice stopped Erica's blood cold. Her fingers itched to hold her weapon again.

"Dean Winchester." The shorter man jutted out his hand to her. She shook it swiftly tensing up when his brother mimicked his actions. Sam had a kind smile that made you want to trust him. But Bobby did, she reminded herself. She forced her hand into his and relaxed slightly when it felt perfectly normal. "Erica Lacour," she replied.

Dean cracked his knuckles and nodded to the laptop. "Got a location for us?"


	3. Chapter 3

**If you're looking for a chapter with some action, this is it! :)**

Chapter 3

Never would Erica be able to see another Impala without smelling old beer and cheap soap. She gripped the leather seat beneath her as Dean attempted to navigate the tight turns that made up the New Orleans streets.

"Turn up here." she instructed. "I think the next one would be better, actually." Sam cut in. He had a map spread out across his lap. "It's a one way, actually." Erica bit sharply at the man. Sam cocked his head at her harsh words.

"You got a problem?" Sam asked. Erica pursed her lips, not wanting to start a fight. "Hey Lacour, where am I going?" Dean chimed in.

"Here." Erica took the help gladly. Dean pulled the impala into the short driveway before the plain blue house. There was nothing special about it – except that it held the closest friend Erica had.

"Erica we've only got the one container of oil. You ok to cover Sammy while he carries, what was it, Heather?" Erica's jaw locked at the thought of leaving Heather at the mercy of the man who had demon blood in his veins.

"Yeah." she said faintly.

Erica fell in between the brothers as they made their way single file to the house. The knob turned with hardly a touch from Sam.

Their footsteps were soundless and well-practiced. Dean nodded to Erica and Sam and then pointed up the stairs. Erica shifted her gun solely to her right hand so she could touch Sam's arm to let him know she was right behind him. Any fears or reservations she had about him were cast aside. This was a job and there was no time to hesitate.

Dean made his way through the den and into the kitchen, tracing his fingers along the edge of his lighter. A gunshot sent him racing upstairs. He discovered Erica wrestling with the rougarou, her gun knocked to the floor a few feet away. Sam was helping a semi-conscious Heather into his arms.

"Get her out of here Sam!" He barked at his brother. "Erica get clear!"

..

Heather gingerly opened her eyes, still groggy from the last time she'd been knocked unconscious. She groaned as her temples throbbed again, and soon heard a voice different from her captor's.

"Heather? Heather, my name's Sam. I'm here to help you."

She opened her eyes and found herself being hoisted up by this Sam, and was too dazed to care about his claim to help her. "Erica…"

"I'll go back and check on her in a minute. Let me get you to safety."

They rounded a corner, unfortunately right into the thick of the fight. Erica and the man were a tangled mess on the floor, and another man was pointing a gun at them.

Heather started up suddenly, struggling to escape Sam's arms. "Er-Erica!" she cried.

"Heather, don't!" Sam said, but wasn't quick enough to stop her from rolling out of his arms. She landed hard but headed straight for the two on the floor.

The man…monster…whatever it was, quickly turned and kicked her legs out from under her. Thankfully, Sam was close behind and prevented her from hitting her head. He scooped her up again and swiftly made his way down the stairs.

They didn't make it to the bottom, however, before something went up in flames behind them. Sam turned to look, and Heather watched as well. The man was engulfed in fire, and Erica was standing next to the other man holding a bowl of oil and a lighter.

Heather saw no more, having passed out in Sam's arms.

* * *

><p>When she woke up for the fifth time in two days, Heather was actually on a bed…in Erica's room? She sat up quickly as Mrs. Lacour came in the room. "Whoa, hon, take it easy. You've apparently had quite a few bumps on the head."<p>

The older woman offered Heather a damp rag, which she pressed to her forehead. "How's Erica? And those guys?"

"Minimal injuries, they're in the living room waiting for you to wake up."

Heather followed Mrs. Lacour out of the bedroom and was promptly greeted by Erica, who pulled her into a gentle hug. "Thank god you're alright. I was so worried!"

They smiled at each other, and Heather turned to greet the two men sitting on the couch. Before she could say anything though, a car door slammed outside the house, making her jump. Mrs. Lacour, who was leaning against the adjacent wall, said, "Now Heather, I don't think we've mentioned yet that your mother is on her way over here."

On cue the door opened and a petite blonde woman rushed into the room. "Heather, my girl!" she cried, wrapping her child in a bear hug. Then she took Heather's face in her hands. "He didn't hurt you, did he? If he raped you I'll slice his throat."

Her daughter gave a half-smile. "I'm ok, mom, he just hit me a couple times. No need to hurt him yourself, these guys over here –" she faltered, remembering her captor's figure going up in flames.

"We caught him and turned him into the proper authorities." said one of the men, clearing his throat and looking at Heather pointedly. He extended his hand to Mrs. Beaumont. "I'm Dean Harker, ma'am, and this is my partner Sam Seward. We're Arkansas detectives, been tracking this guy since Little Rock."

Mrs. Beaumont shook their hands and gave both boys a peck on the cheek. "Thank you so much for saving my little girl."

The group spoke for a little while longer, and once Mrs. Beaumont was properly assured that Heather was just fine, she went home.

As soon as the sound of the engine died away, Heather slowly turned around. "So, does anyone want to explain?"

None of the room's inhabitants were willing to look her in the face. "Hey, you set that man on fire, there were no other 'proper authorities'. And guys, what's with the aliases? _Dracula_ character names, really? And Erica, he looked deformed, and he knew who you were, he had your picture!"

They all exchanged emphatic looks, worrying Heather to no end. Finally, Erica spoke. "Heather, I wasn't planning on telling you this…ever. But that man that took you, it wasn't human."

"What was he, a mutant?"

"A rougarou, actually." Sam cut in.

"Gesundheit." Heather's grin quickly faded, though, when she saw the solemn faces of those around her. "Wait, you're being serious?"

This time it was Mr. Lacour who spoke, one of the most solid and sincere men Heather knew. "Heather, this is gonna be a lot to take in. But demons, ghosts, spirits, werewolves, every legend of creatures you've heard of…they're all real. My wife and I hunt them for a living, to keep people safe, and we raised Erica to do the same. Those men are hunters, too."

The man she didn't know stood up and stretched out his hand. "My name is Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam, and that's the truth." Heather shook it, still dumbfounded.

She quickly spun to Erica, doing her best to keep her emotions in check. "Erica…I-I don't even know! _You _were the one that put that bullet hole in its chest? And all that traveling, the 'pest control' jobs, that was all this? Hunting?"

"Yes, it was. I didn't tell you because, well, how could I? But I'm still your friend, still the same girl you went to high school with, I'm still all me. Now you just know I'm a hunter."

Heather sat in the armchair with a _thud_ and took a deep breath. "Ok. Ok. Whew. This is a lot. But I trust you." She glanced over at Sam and Dean. "And thank you guys, really. I'm Heather Beaumont, by the way."

Dean cracked a grin. "Nice to meet you, Heather."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sam was pulled out of his shallow sleep by the sound of two hushed female voices. It took him several moments to remember that he and his brother had picked up passengers on the road to retrieve more Argan oil. Erica had insisted they leave some with her family, since the Rougarous were native to that area.

Sam knew the only reason Heather was still with them was that they wanted to be certain she was out of trouble, but he still wasn't feeling too keen on putting her in harm's way.

Erica and Heather had been talking when he had dozed off. From their lack of rumpled clothes and still intact hair, he assumed they had not gotten any sleep themselves.

"Erica," Sam turned to address the slightly more relaxed hunter. Erica jerked at being directly addressed by him. "What ID's do you have on you?" She cocked her head as if offended he would even ask. She tugged her shoulder bag out from under her feet and produced several badges held together by a rubber band.

"What're you thinking?" She questioned.

"CDC maybe. We could claim a recall on the oil." Sam replied.

Erica nodded in agreement. "That's actually a really good idea." she allowed.

"You sound surprised." Sam noted.

"Thought under the radar wasn't your style." Erica shrugged.

Dean grimaced and turned fully around. "You aren't talking about that incident in Chicago are you?" The car swerved on the road and Heather squeaked, clinging to Dean's seat back.

"Dean, your job is driving." Sam spoke, clearly unworried.

"That shifter has given us nothing but hell." Dean pushed on.

"Guys…" Heather interrupted.

Erica immediately cut her attention away from the brothers. Heather was pointing out the window, her hazel eyes narrowed. "Isn't that the factory we're supposed to be looking for?"

"Look, she is useful for something." Dean commented dryly, making Heather grin at him.

Erica swung out of the impala, ready to get this over with. She ducked her head back in as Heather began to unbuckle.

"Heat, you mind staying put?" she asked.

"Um…"

"You'll be fine." Sam assured her.

Erica patted the hood. "Just call if you see anything suspicious." she instructed.

Together the three hunters made their way inside the office part of the factory. A young blonde with her hair pulled into a sloppy side braid glanced up at them. Dean offered her an alluring smile and leaned across the counter.

"My coworkers and I need to see your boss." He flashed her his badge. Erica was staring baffled at his strange technique of flirting his way in.

"You get used to it." Sam muttered to her. She stiffened when he tapped her badge in her jacket pocket. The blonde was waiting expectantly.

She nodded at seeing the identification and picked up her desk phone. Erica's eyes swept the room seeing workers in blue jumpsuits and white hats pass through. One paused long enough for her to get a look at his eyes.

Red.

All of their eyes were that same horrible shade.

She dashed to Dean's side, gripping his elbow hard through his layers. "We need to leave." she hissed. Dean's smile faltered for a moment.

"I'm afraid our boss has just contacted my coworker here. We'll have to come back another time." Dean hadn't trusted her instantly; he'd followed her calculated gaze to where the worker rougarous were beginning to accumulate at the back exit.

"Are you sure?" The glint in the eyes of the desk worker was enough to send them all back a step.

"Positive." Dean was the first to break character. He slammed open the door and waited the two seconds it took for Sam and Erica to sprint out before shoving an old dense piece of plywood through the door handles.

Heather, seeing the mayhem, jumped into the front seat, where Dean had left the keys and cranked the engine. Dean pushed her into the passenger seat, not stopping to thank her and barely left Sam time to shut the door before tearing off. Erica grabbed the back of Sam's jacket to keep him from slamming his head against the glass.

"What the hell?" Heather asked looking between all their flushed faces.

Dean ran a hand down his face. "They're guarding it. Smart little bastards."

Heather's lips parted. She'd just begun to see these people as the mini soldiers they were. Witnessing them so terrified did not set her at ease.

"So what now?" She asked cautiously.

"I'm calling Bobby." Erica announced.

* * *

><p>"Dresses?" Heather held up her limited selection of day dresses for Erica to scrutinize. They were packing for the road trip to Bobby's. Something strange was going on and they had to get more of the oil somehow.<p>

"Maybe one. Definitely bring your lawyer gear. Never know when we might need that." Erica responded. She had packed hours ago, having long since learned what needed to stay or come on hunting trips.

Heather neatly folded the remainder of her clothes into the small suitcase she was allowed.

Erica texted Dean that they were ready and went to sit beside her friend on the bed. She touched the slowly healing scars on her arm and face.

"I want you to be really careful, Heather." Erica spoke softly.

Heather smiled. "I will be. Besides, I have you and those Winchesters to keep me safe." Erica ducked her head to hide her pursed lips.

"Ok, spill E. You think just because it's been a while I've forgotten how to read you? Why don't you like them?" Heather demanded.

Erica sighed, fluttering her lips. "I just don't know them." she responded.

"Darling, I'm not stupid."

"I've read some things about them…"

"Have you tried asking them?" Heather countered.

"I don't really want to talk to a man with demon blood more than necessary." Erica bit sharper than she intended.

Heather raised her eyebrows. "They both seem nice enough. Definitely human at least."

"Maybe if they'd been straightforward…"

Heather cut her off. "Are you really in a place to judge? Last I checked, you've been lying to me my entire life. So get over yourself and give them a break."

A knock on the door silenced the girls. They grabbed their bags and set off on the long trip to Bobby's.

* * *

><p>Erica was supposed to be sleeping right now. She hadn't slept last night because she was worried about Heather and now she was kept awake by the words of that same friend. She knew they had a long stretch of driving tomorrow to get to Bobby's, but she couldn't seem to slow down her mind, though her body was exhausted.<p>

Finally, she swung her legs off her bed and put on slippers. She didn't bother changing, her sweatpants and t shirt would have to do.

The air in the motel halls always seemed to smell of mildew, no matter where in the country she was. She knocked on the door of the room beside the one she and Heather shared.

Erica was slightly relieved when Sam answered the door so she wouldn't have to explain the need to talk to the younger Winchester in the middle of the night to the ever nosy Dean.

His long, floppy brown hair was in tangles across his forehead and his hazel eyes were slightly puffy around the edges. Erica knew she'd be waking him up and forged ahead.

"Can we talk out here?" She questioned nodding to the empty hallway.

"Is something wrong?" Sam asked instantly. He shut the door between them and his brother.

Erica studied him for a moment. His faded blue shirt was hitched up and awkwardly half tucked in to his sleep pants. He had creases from the sheets on his left cheek and arm. He looked incredibly young in the low lighting and she softened her next question due to it.

"Are you human?"

Sam tilted his head. He groaned, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"I'm not a demon, if that's what you're implying." He locked his fingers behind his neck, peering down at the tall girl. "It's blood and it gives me visions sometimes, sure, but I'm definitely human. A freaky version of one, but I didn't ask for it."

Something about Sam begged for her to trust him. He hadn't hesitated when she'd asked him. He'd been straightforward. Erica found a guilty smile etching itself onto her cheeks.

"I didn't mean for that to sound bitchy." she stated, chewing the inner corner of her cheek. Erica couldn't quite figure out why she was getting nervous out of nowhere.

"Oh, no worries. Very minor on the bitch scale." Sam gave her a warm smile.

Erica laughed out right, forgetting that the walls were thin and it could wake people.

"Seriously though, I'm sorry." she stated.

Sam slid to the floor and patted the spot on the stained orange carpet for Erica. She sat obediently.

"I get it; trusting people is hard. So, ask me anything and then you can return the favor. Depending on what Bobby says we could be stuck together for a while."

Who was he? Erica found herself wondering. Sam was nothing like any hunter she'd ever come across.

She peppered him with questions, curious about his past and he in turn asked about hers. It was slightly unsettling how relaxed she found herself becoming so rapidly.

Erica was almost relieved when she heard a muffled shout from her room. She sprinted away, offering Sam no explanation, to find Heather not being attacked by a monster, but merely sitting up in bed crying out in confusion.

..

Heather's eyes were darting around the dark room, her groggy mind trying to figure out where she was. Floral curtains, a swiveling chair, and she was laying on rough sheets. "What the hell?" she said loudly, fear slowly gripping her. "Oh god what's going on?"

Quite suddenly she felt hands clutching her forearms, and a voice saying, "Heather, it's me. Calm down, I'm right here."

Oh right. Erica, hunting, the Winchesters, this cheap motel.

"Erica? Erica, gosh I'm sorry. I didn't remember where I was. Sorry to worry you."

Their eyes had adjusted enough for Heather to see her friend's face. "That's ok, it happens. You're not used to all the traveling."

Only then did Heather glance at the door, noticing Sam standing in the frame. "You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to wake you."

It was his turn to grin. "No problem. Erica and I were actually just talking in the hallway." He stifled a yawn, and a silence hung briefly in the air. "I, uh, I think I'll head back to bed now, seeing as you ladies are doing just fine. See ya in the morning."

The women bid him goodnight, quietly giggling at his awkwardness. Once the door had shut behind him, Heather turned to Erica. "So what's with the midnight chat?"

"Well, I took your advice." she answered. "Talked to him myself. And it was rather strange. He was so easy to open up to!"

Heather had laid back down against her pillow. "See? I know how these things work, E. Now go back to sleep or you'll collapse tomorrow." She heard Erica slip into the other bed, but not much else before she succumbed to her own exhaustion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello darlings! Happy almost Thanksgiving!**

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Chapter 5

Heather tossed her hairbrush in her duffel and zipped it up. "Erica, you almost ready?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna make a quick sweep of the place to see if we left anything. You can head down, I think the boys are at the car." Her friend nodded at the door.

And so she treaded down the motel's short flight of stairs, eager for the day to get started. Hitting the road sooner meant getting to this guy Bobby's place sooner. She saw the Impala and went over to deposit her bag.

She found Dean rummaging through the trunk and, finding her interest piqued, Heather joined him at the back of the car. Her eyes widened at what she saw.

A second compartment in the floor of the trunk had been opened to reveal a startlingly large arsenal. Handguns, knives, shotguns, grenades, wooden stakes, a few unrecognizable weapons, and more ammo than you could shake a stick at.

"Oh…my god." Heather breathed. "There's so much."

Dean shrugged, but that didn't hide the gleam of pride in his eyes. "I know. There's a lot of monsters, too, but with this we should be able to kill any we run across."

She mustered up a half-smile for him, then made her way to the back seat. Fiddling with her hands, she was caught in her thoughts. She still wasn't totally accustomed to the concept of a hunter, much less all the violence involved. And it still unnerved her a bit. Dean and Sam seemed like normal enough guys, but she was slightly intimidated by what they were apparently capable of.

The slamming of car doors snapped Heather from her contemplations. Sam was settling into the passenger seat and Erica in the seat to her right. "Heat, you mind if I stick my bag here between us? More leg room."

Sam turned and faced the women. "Heat?" he questioned. "What's with the name?"

Dean, who was just making it into his seat, heard his brother's question. "What's with what name?"

"My nickname, Heat." Heather replied. "I've had it since junior high."

Erica cut in as the Impala made it onto the main road. "Yeah, she's always been pretty ambitious. A friend of ours commented on it, telling her she'd always 'bring the heat', and the name stuck. And once she set her sights on law school, it became all the more relevant."

Sam's face lit up. "Law school? You're in law school?"

"Yes, at UC-Berkeley." Heather lowered her eyes, not wanting to boast. "I graduate in December."

"You're at Berkeley? That's incredible! I was at Stanford, about to go to law school last year before, uh, I joined Dean with hunting." Sam broke her gaze, thinking for moment. "What are you studying?"

Dean laughed. "C'mon Sammy, use that brain of yours! She's studying law, gonna be throwing around that 'I object!' stuff left and right."

"Well, not quite." Heather said gently. "I'm actually in business law. I'm more likely to use the words 'merger' and 'compensation' than anything you've heard on Law & Order."

"Oh, well that's not nearly as fun. Still impressive, though, I guess." Dean's eyes crinkled as he smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

She leaned back against the leather, muttering, "Not that it helps with this hunting stuff." After another pause, she sharply leaned forward again. "And you said Stanford?!"

* * *

><p>A good many hours later found them a few miles away from Bobby's house. Sam and Heather had finally exhausted the topic of their educations, after discussions on classes and professors and readings and favorite procedures. Erica had finally succumbed to sleep, and Dean was humming along to the sixth ACDC song.

"Hey Sam, you mind grabbing me a beer from the cooler?"

"Dean, you're still driving." his younger brother protested. "And Erica has her legs on top of it. I don't want to wake her."

Dean glanced at him. "Since when were you her knight in shining armor?"

"It's not that. But…she's violent if woken up suddenly." He sighed, knowing what was coming next.

"Whoa there, Sammy! There's only one way that you could know –"

"I told him, idiot." Erica sat up. "While you were snoring last night we had a little chatting time."

Dean held his hands up in defense. "Ok, alright. No need to get twisted up over an assumption, sleeping snooty." He caught the steering wheel before they rode too far off the street, quietly adding, "And I don't snore."

They soon pulled up to an old blue-painted wooden house and the four practically leapt out of the Impala. Heather took notice of all the decrepit cars strewn about, and what was quite obviously a salvage yard out back.

"Were you sleep-drivin', Dean?" came a voice from the porch. "Took so damn long to get here."

Heather turned to identify the voice and saw an older man standing in the doorway. Large beard, fishing hat, faded plaid shirt (was it a hunter thing or..?), and a stern expression. His face softened, though, when the boys approached him. "I was just messin' with ya, son." He hugged the older brother. Sam was next, and received a warm embrace as well.

"Erica, it's been awhile. Good to see you're well. How's your mama doing?"

"Oh, she's good," the young hunter said as she pulled out of the hug, "keeping Maureen out of trouble and still hunting with dad when she can."

Heather was quietly gathering her duffel from the trunk when the man then came over to her. "And you must be that damsel in distress these idjits had to come rescue." he said with a knowing smile. "I'm Bobby Singer."

"Yes sir, I'm Heather Beaumont." She gave him a firm handshake. She threw Sam and Dean a smile when she added, "And I think the idjits did just fine."

Bobby ushered them into the house and grabbed a six pack from the fridge. "Take it easy for a bit, then we'll get to the monster stuff."

Erica was headed to take a seat on the couch, but hesitated when she saw Sam already perched on it. Instead, she headed upstairs for a shower. Heather took the chance to call her mother and a few other people, reinforcing the white lie about a road trip with friends.

Dean sat across the kitchen table from Bobby. "New Orleans is a long-ass drive from here, Bobby."

"Yeah, but you made it, didn't you? Helped some people out, as usual." The older hunter paused. "And how's Sam been doing?"

Dean nodded. "Well enough, like all of us. Not as many nightmares, still a damn good hunter. And he's got a knack for opening up with our two guests." He gestured to the girls' bags laying in the corner.

"Why again did that Heather woman come with y'all?" Bobby questioned.

"Erica wouldn't let us leave without her." Dean looked back to where Heather was sipping her beer. "And it was a smart enough move, not leaving her where other Rou's might pick up her scent."

"Well if she's gettin' in the way, just let me know. I'd rather keep an eye on her here."

Dean shrugged, taking a swig. "She's not that bad, actually. Having a non-hunter around is a refreshing change."


	6. Chapter 6

Several hours had passed by the time Erica finally made her way out of her isolation. She wasn't accustomed to being constantly surrounded by so many people, and so had resorted to emailing her parents and checking up on some people she had helped over the last year.

Her hair was tied up in its usual practical bun and she had returned her gun to her boot since her shower.

Bobby's guest room was messy and crowded at best, so she had some lore tucked under her arm, intent on camping out on the couch to read up on every possible thing Bobby had on Rougarous. She had no doubt he'd tell them everything he knew; Erica just liked to be prepared.

She stopped at the last step, discovering Sam stretched out on the only couch, old and battered novel in his hands. She sighed, resigning to share with the younger Winchester.

She tapped his shoe as she approached, managing to pull him back to reality. Sam blinked at Erica for several breaths, not bothering to process the situation.

"Move it." Erica grumbled. "Please." She added seeing Sam cock his head playfully.

"That's better." Sam cheered, swinging his legs around to prop up on the coffee table.

Erica seated herself, folding her legs underneath her and setting the ancient books against her knees.

"Anxious, are we?" Sam inquired.

"I already screwed up with these monsters twice. A third time would be pathetic." she spoke without looking up.

Sam set down his own books, turning to face the focused woman.

"You know we've got your back right? That's what we're here for." Sam hesitated when Erica paid him no mind. "And even if you mess up again, we'll still be here for you. I will…most definitely."

Erica chewed her lip, twisting the hem of her leggings in her fingers. "I know, Sam. That's your job," she responded dully.

Sam passed a hand through his hair resisting the urge to sigh.

"You know you're incredible, right?"

That caught her attention. Erica, however, kept her eyes carefully trained on the page before her, though the words ceased to make sense to her mind.

"Most hunters, knowing what you knew about the demon blood, they would've shot me on sight. But you didn't."

Erica looked up now, retort ready on her lips. "That wasn't because of love at first sight or whatever you're implying, Sam, so just stop."

"I know. I don't love you. Hell, I'm still working up to the whole liking stage. I just thought you should know; it felt wrong not to tell you," he returned.

His amazingly calm voice made Erica fist her hands. It didn't matter what he thought really. She would return to her old life soon. Sam would be only a memory in a few days.

"You did it for Heather," Sam carried on. "You did it because you love her and you put her safety above your own by working with me. And the reason you brought her isn't solely because you think she's still in danger. You want her in your life and you trust her so absolutely that you allowed her to come. I admire that about you. Dean's my brother and half the time I don't know if he's telling me the truth."

"Sam." she murmured, still processing his speech. Any other argument wouldn't come out at this moment.

"I'm not asking for anything," Sam said.

"Stop."

"But I'd like to get to know you."

"Please!"

Sam locked his jaw as Erica stood. "I…" she paused to breathe when she realized she'd forgotten to do so. "Don't do that again." And she walked away.

Erica walked outside, craving the open air. She leaned against a dusty worn down car.

Sam was ridiculous, she thought. How could he even suggest that? He hadn't even tried to kiss her. In her experience, that's what you did when you liked someone. Maybe he knew he would get a busted lip if that was even attempted.

She shoved all those thoughts away, determined to steer clear of Sam. No more open chats since apparently they gave him the wrong impression.

"Hey, Erica." Heather's voice came from the back door. "Bobby's about to tell us what's up." she said.

Erica straightened herself, not wanting to give Sam any idea that he had affected her.

The two friends made their way into the basement where books and weapons were strewn across the floor. Sam and Dean were already down there, speaking in low tones with Bobby.

"Finally." Dean sighed dramatically.

"That took all of a minute, Dean." Heather knocked her elbow against his, making the corner of his mouth pull up slightly.

"Anywho," Bobby cut in, "From what I can make out, you kids aren't just dealing with a few Rougarous with an agenda. They don't usually organize unless they have orders."

"Orders from who?" Erica was all business now.

"You aren't gonna like this." Bobby commented.

"When do we ever like the newest nasty monster that wants to kill us?" Dean said.

"You were pretty excited about those werewolves." Sam countered. Heather grinned at the Dean's guilty expression.

"It's an Alpha." Bobby interrupted the teasing.

Erica had suspected as much.

"What?" Heather asked.

"It's the first one." Sam told her.

"It's the Rougarou that created all the others. It's nearly impossible to kill." Erica added on.

"Yes." Bobby said as Erica accidently met Sam's gaze. He shifted and broke it first, wringing his hands.

"Fortunately for you lot, I happen to have the spell required to off the beasty."

"Well hand it over and we'll be off." Dean held out his hand. Bobby slapped it with the few papers he was holding, making Dean whine like a child.

"It's not so simple you idjit. You need seven items to make it." Bobby said.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say they aren't easily found." Erica folded her arms.

"You need a white peacock feather, a bismuth crystal, an arrow head from the Apache Tribe, koroit opal, a scale from an albino alligator, and Black Caesar's treasure."

All gawked at Bobby who held out the papers in his hand to Erica. "I trust you to keep track of this. I took the liberty of writing down where these things are. I couldn't get too specific on some and but I know you can make do."

Erica nodded, full of determination as she cradled the papers against her chest.

"Now go get packed up. The faster you get a move on, the less time the Alpha will have to figure out we're on to him." Bobby ushered them away.

"Erica, hang back here a sec." He called. She shifted the papers onto her hip.

"If you're gonna tell me it's safer to leave Heather here, I know." she spoke before he could say anything. "I'd just feel better if she was near me."

Bobby held up his hands. "I get it. No arguments. I just have a question for you."

Oh, a hunting question. Erica could do that. Hunting came naturally to her.

"I want you to keep an eye on those two for me. They get at each other's throats more than I like."

"Absolutely, Bobby." Erica nodded.

"Dean's real worried about his brother. I don't know if they told you, but Sam…"

"I know." Erica cut him off tightly.

Bobby read her tense expression instantly. "You seemed fine with Sam a few hours ago."

"I'm fine. We're fine. I-I mean, _we're_ not anything." Erica hated herself for stuttering.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Sure, kid. Whatever you say. Just so you know, you don't have to be afraid of him. For any reason." Bobby said pointedly.

Erica took a step back. "I'm not afraid of him. I just want this over with. I just want everything to go back to normal."

Bobby nodded skeptically. "Ok, call if you need anything. Dean calls me about his drama with Sam. I wouldn't mind counseling two…"

"Thanks, Bobby. Bye."

Erica quickly packed her things, discovering the others waiting around the impala.

"I do not smell like old man!" Dean was shouting in defense. Heather laughed and leaned to sniff his shirt. "Watch the merchandise, Heat." Dean swatted her playfully.

"The merchandise smells suspiciously like oatmeal." Heather winked.

Erica rolled her eyes at their obvious flirting. "Let's get moving." she called.

They climbed into their respective seats, Dean at the wheel with Sam riding shotgun and Heather and Erica in the back.

"Where to?" Dean asked, cranking the engine.

"First one isn't too far. Head to Idaho."

"From South Dakota? That's close?" Heather asked skeptically.

"By hunter's standards? Very much so." Sam replied making Heather flash him one of her heart-warming smiles. Erica buried her nose in the papers outline what was located there.

The bismuth crystal.

**Kind reminder to review, darlings!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Erica! What time did the boys say they'd come get us?" Heather called from behind the bathroom door.

The other woman answered, "Not 'til eight. We have a half-hour."

As if on cue, there was a knock on their motel room door. Erica went and answered it as Heather emerged from the bathroom. Sam and Dean came traipsing in, bidding their good mornings. They were dressed semi-well in preparation for the con of the day.

"Sorry we're early," the elder stated, "Gigantor over here woke me up when coming in from his run and that was like an hour ago and –"

"And so Dean got bored and wanted to come pester y'all." Sam finished, rolling his eyes.

Erica shrugged. "Just don't mess with _that_ stack of paper, please." She warned as Dean reached for her own pile of research.

A suppressed laugh to Dean's left caught his attention, and he looked to see Heather brushing her teeth at the sink in the corner. He made his way over to her, a bounce in his step. "How're ya feeling this morning, Heat? Cause I feel good!" He hummed the catchy rhythm of the famous James Brown song, moving around and continuing to sing. "I knew that I would now, I feel good!"

Heather grinned at his antics. "Good song choice, and yes I'm feeling just fine."

Dean nodded proudly and then turned to join Sam on the couch. Heather watched his gait for the briefest few seconds before turning back to the mirror.

She and Dean had kept up this sort of banter for a few days now. Call it flirtatious, call it playful, it didn't really matter. They were both outgoing and good-natured, and so clicked quite well. It was all very casual, much to Heather's relief. Just like back at grad school, she wasn't looking for any sort of commitment. She preferred to have a fling every now and then, but mostly focus on her education.

And how entertaining this was! She made him smirk, he made her laugh, it was all pretty fun. And it made the whole prospect of the long trip a bit more bearable.

"So, Heather." Sam's voice snapped her from her thoughts.

"What's up?" She asked as she belted her jeans.

He seemed almost nervous. "As far as today goes, what with obtaining the crystal from the, you know, mine with at least moderate security…we're not really sure if –"

"If I should accompany you." she cut him off, sensing where he was going. She'd been expecting this. "I understand. I'm not used to holding up a badge from – which is it today, a government-run lab? – and faking my way into a place."

"Told you she'd understand, Sammy! So let's get the three of us on the road." Dean pulled on his blazer.

"Now hang on a minute." Erica's voice was stern. "Is it safe to leave her here alone?"

Heather protested her friend's caution. "E, we're in Cottonwood, Idaho. There's barely anybody around."

"Exactly. And there's woods everywhere. Hate to break this to ya, but Idaho's rife with wolves. Legends for a couple hundred years about 'em, and an attack every now and then. And there's no way I'm leaving you with that possibility. Plus, you're still a target for the Rous and who knows if there's any out here."

Heather resigned her other arguments and allowed for it to be decided that Erica would stay with her in the motel while Sam and Dean went to retrieve the bismuth.

"Alright, now stay safe and try not to get too bored." Sam offered with a smile as they headed for the door. He looked at Erica for a reaction but received none.

Heather figured Erica had relapsed into her untrusting ways, but wasn't gonna bother her about it. She'd talk if she wanted to. Instead, Heather collapsed onto the bed in an attempt to steal some more sleep.

* * *

><p>The afternoon sun found the girls leaving the motel for the nearest grocer. The little mom-and-pop place had the food and toiletries they were looking for, and so they were back shortly.<p>

As soon as the door was shut, Heather started unbagging the groceries and laughed as Erica immediately peeled off her shirt. "You still do that after all those years?"

"Of course. It's still blasted hot cause these northerners apparently don't believe in proper air conditioning. But don't worry, I'm trying to find a cooler shirt to put back on."

Heather had noticed some ink when her friend had been shirtless, but she let a few minutes pass before she said, "So…you got a few more tats, I see."

"Oh, yeah." Erica turned away from her duffel and lifted the tee she now had on. She gestured to a very decorated pentagram on her hip. "You knew about this one, right?"

Heather nodded.

"Well it actually has to do with my hunting." Erica paused as Heather's eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, it's anti-possession. Protects me against whatever demons and ghosts and witches and other stuff I come across from inhabiting me."

Heather gave a half-smile, her voice a bit saddened. "And you got that when we were seventeen. Even then?"

"Yeah. Born and raised this way, remember?" She cleared her throat and continued, pointing to an interesting split arrow figure on her ribcage. "When facing setbacks, be able to move forward."

She turned and showed one on her spine, what looked to be a Native American glyph. "This one is 'wisdom', god knows I need it. And then this represents all the people I've saved, or couldn't save, as it is." She referred to the lines of a heart monitor on her lower back.

"Wow." Heather nodded. "I'm impressed, and I do like them all."

Erica smiled. "And I guess the future lawyer has shied away from any tattoos?"

"Oh yes indeed, and I'm not so much of a fan of needles anyway."

Her next words were interrupted by a rough knock on the door. Heather opened it this time, and found Dean's beaming face meeting hers.

"Oh good, you ladies managed to stay alive." He maneuvered himself inside the room, his brother following in behind him.

"Yes, mission accomplished." Sam said before Erica could ask, holding up a small glass case. "One bismuth crystal."

He returned it to his jacket pocket as Dean rifled through the food Heather was still unloading. "So, didja keep busy?" The older hunter inquired. "No wait, lemme guess…pillow fights, chocolate, and _The Notebook_."

"Well as you can see," Heather retorted as she snatched away a granola bar, "we were actually quite productive. Food was running low and we were gonna need batteries and detergent soon, so we stocked up."

Erica grinned as she grabbed the plastic bucket from her bedside table. "You're welcome, boys. Now I'm gonna go grab some ice from the machine, cause there's no way that ridiculous fridge will cool the beers."

"So drinking isn't a terribly new thing to either of you?" Sam pondered once she was down the hall.

Heather laughed. "Sam, she and I are twenty-six, and we grew up in _New Orleans_, alcohol is as common as water there. My first Bourbon street party was at seventeen. Granted, I've tried not to do that too much, but yes of course we're accustomed to our alcohol."

"Anything else you're accustomed to?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "The term 'party' can have a lot of connotations…"

"Drugs aren't my thing and Erica's the one with the tattoos, if that's what you're asking."

"Erica has tattoos?" Both boys' faces lit up.

Erica herself had walked back through the door and heard that last question, and she shot Heather a glare. "Really, Heat?"

The blonde gave a sheepish smile. "I wasn't thinking, sorry."

"You've been outed, gotta show us now." Dean batted his eyes.

She sighed, then quickly played show-and-tell like she had earlier with Heather. Dean nodded when she explained the heart monitor tattoo, as a fellow hunter he could identify.

The same could be said for Sam, except that he seemed too caught up with Erica herself, hanging on her every word. Heather could tell he was probably interested in her, but then decided to not mention it because the dreamy expression was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

"They're quite meaningful." He stated, locking eyes with Erica.

She offered a smirk. "Well I don't have a half-sleeve, if that's what you were looking for."

"Yeah, when Heat said tattoos," Dean cut in, "I thought you were some sort of closeted rockabilly chick. These are good though, I like 'em."

"Thanks." She quickly tugged her shirt down. "Alright, move along, I'm not a museum exhibit."

The boys stood, gathering their things. Dean turned to Heather with an endearing head tilt. "Now if you ever want one of our little anti-possession ones, lemme know. We'll get you to the right place."

"You know I'm not a hunter, Dean," she shook her head, "and a tattoo won't really be the best thing for my profession. You know, with corporate big wigs soon to be my day-to-day clientele."

He shrugged. "It was worth a shot." Then, throwing his blazer over his shoulder, he gave a grandiose bow, earning an eye-roll from the rest of them. "Sam and I will retire to our room now to relax."

"And he'll probably watch Oprah." Sam muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello darlings! Thanks to everybody who's favorited\followed\reviewed! It means a lot.**

**And now, without further ado, here's the highly anticipated next chapter!**

Chapter 8

"Dean, is it possible for you not to hover?" Erica asked as she finished mapping out their root to the old Native American Reservation. There they would find the next item needed to make the spell: the arrowhead from the Apache tribe.

"Is it possible for you to go any slower?" The older Winchester retorted. He had shouldered his way into the room Erica and Heather shared nearly an hour before in anticipation of the upcoming hunting trip.

Erica turned in her seat, raising an unamused eyebrow at him. "Would you rather us get lost?"

"I'm just saying we should hit the road. You can do this in the car."

"Dean, stop being a control freak." Sam came in the room. Erica dutifully folded up her papers, finding it easier and easier to distract herself from the floppy haired man.

"She's the control freak! Who color coordinates a friggin' map?" Dean cried.

"Done. Let's go, short stack." Dean puffed up at the insult and waltzed after Erica as she headed out the door.

"Stay safe." Sam called after them.

"Keep Heather safe, Sam." Erica nodded to the bedroom where her best friend still slept.

Sam bobbed his head and Erica caught herself too late as his hazel eyes drew hers in. She shut him out quickly. She needed to focus on completing this job. On keeping Erica safe and continuing in the life she knew and loved.

Erica hurried outside to where Dean waited. She slid into the passenger seat of the impala and winced when the sounds of classic rock assaulted her eardrums.

"Dean, I'd like to not experience bleeding from my ears, if you don't mind." she spoke.

"See, I think that same thing every time you speak, but I'm polite enough to keep my mouth shut." Dean fired right back.

"You don't have to like me, but you do have to work with me," Erica kept her tone diplomatic.

"That what you tell yourself about Sammy?" Dean asked, turning his head away from the road to look knowingly at the tense hunter.

Erica, usually able to communicate almost flawlessly with her coworkers, tripped over the hasty reply she'd thrown together in her mind.

Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "I get it. I'm not blind. I understand why you're doing it. I just don't like what it's doing to Sam."

When Erica failed to offer a response or defense of any kind, Dean shrugged. "So arrowhead of the Apache? Name just screams Clint Eastwood movie." Erica accepted the topic change readily.

The reservation they posed as tourists at was relatively quiet. Erica would click pictures with her phone in the tiny museum it possessed, all the while scanning for the arrowhead that had what appeared to be a series of triangles carved into it. The items on display had minimal security – just a guard in the corner of each room.

She felt a tap on her elbow and turned, offering Dean a smile as he put an arm around her shoulders, steering her over to where the arrowhead they were searching for was located in the midst of a display meant to depict the old Native American ways of life. There was no glass between the scene and them. It would only be a matter of reaching in and stealing it away.

"You up for causing a distraction, E?" Dean murmured.

"Just get the arrow." she responded.

Erica turned with a practiced grin on her face to the only guard in the room. An elderly couple perused on the other side of the room and a school group of young kids gawked at the variety of bows and arrows mounted on the walls.

Erica drew a deep breath then let out a scream she'd heard countless times from victims.

"Snake!" she cried pointing behind the guard.

The children erupted in shrieks of fear and jumped over each other to get away. The guard spun to find the offending serpent.

Erica felt Dean tap her elbow and together they slipped silently out of the reservation.

They didn't go by way of the path back to the only parking lot, but rather wove through the thin woods surrounding the reservation.

By the time they reached the car, Dean's hair was littered with small sticks and leaves and briars clung to the hem of Erica's sweatshirt.

"What's so damned important about this rock?" Dean demanded, shoving it into Erica's hands.

"It's supposed to be blessed by fairy magic." she responded. She turned it over in her hands, running her calloused fingers over the smooth surface.

"Mine, actually." a small voice came.

A girl the height of Erica's hand stood at their feet. Neither hunter jumped, but rather reached for the guns concealed on them. Dean carried bullets packed with rock salt. Erica's contained silver which was used for killing shifters, werewolves…and fairies.

"Back in their time of thriving, the Apache did not like the constant wars around them, so they asked me to bring them peace and in exchange they offered me safety. As you might have guessed, we fairies have never been well received." the tiny girl continued.

"I can't see why not. With the lies and deceit, hell, I'd sure trust you with my nation's peace," Dean spoke.

The fairy bowed her head. "I understand your hostility. But I must warn you, this arrowhead is bound to me and I am bound to this land. It will not be useful for any purposes you have planned for it so long as my promise is kept."

Erica removed her gun from her boot and fired before the fairy could react. Now the creature was reduced to a pile of glitter.

"Killed on Apache land, promise breaks. Let's go." Erica said curtly.

"I might start to like you." Dean announced once seated in his car. "No whining. You get stuff done."

They started the short ride back to the motel in a more comfortable silence.

* * *

><p>Heather and Sam were sitting on the porch when they pulled up. Both appeared entirely comfortable with the other and has easy grins on their faces.<p>

"One arrowhead." Dean announced proudly.

"That was fast." Heather commented.

"I'm productive. Would've been quicker if his highness over there didn't insist on stopping for lunch at a 3 star diner," Erica replied.

"Hey, I'm only picky about three things: gas for my baby, music in my ears, and food in my belly."

Heather laughed good-naturedly at Dean's comment and approached her friend. She brushed her hand against Erica's cheek.

"Do you know you have glitter all over your face?" She asked.

She pulled Erica back into the motel room, leaving the two men outside. Heather wet a towel and sat Erica on the creaky couch with yellowed print. She began to gently wipe the dirt, sweat, and glitter away.

"You and Dean seem on good terms." Heather commented.

Erica shrugged. "Guess we understand each other."

Heather frowned, scrunching up her nose as she pressed harder with the rag.

"This stuff is hard to get off. What'd you do?" She inquired.

"Shot a fairy." Erica responded without missing a beat.

Heather raised her eyebrows. "What strange way was this monster trying to kill you?"

"It wasn't. It just needed to die."

Erica saw the way Heather's jaw clenched and how quickly she withdrew her hand. She was reacting poorly to the news.

"It was a monster, Heather." Erica told her.

"It wasn't doing anything to you." Heather shot back.

Erica calmed her steadily building anger. This was Heather. She just had to help her understand.

"Not to me. But fairies can't be trusted. Better to get rid of it now before it can cause any damage."

"But you didn't know what it would have done because you shot it. It could have been peaceful!"

"Monsters aren't peaceful, Heather. And they don't hesitate to get what they want, which means we can't afford to either. I don't get the luxury of caring because that _peaceful _fairy could have killed someone one day. What I did was right."

"By whose standards?"

"A hunter's!" Erica knew she shouldn't yell. She knew it wouldn't help Erica understand her point. But she did and then Heather stormed out.

..

Heather slammed the motel door behind her, having forgotten the brothers sitting right there. They jumped at the noise, puzzled by her exasperation.

"I…well she…just give me a few minutes, ok?" She uttered before going out into the parking lot and leaning against the impala, trying to clear her head.

She still wasn't totally used to the idea of hunting, apparently. The way she was raised, you don't hurt something unless it's hurting you, and even then exercise restraint. And a _fairy_? God, does anything manage to not exist to these people?

Not that fairy. And it had been shot in cold blood by Heather's own friend. She couldn't tell if she was more stunned or angry, but she didn't have much more time to mull over it before Dean was leaning on the car beside her.

"Yeah, that glitter's not coming off of Erica's face for awhile…" He laughed weakly, trailing off when he saw Heather's unchanging expression.

"Look, Heat, you need to –"

"I need to what?!" she snapped. "Need to forget it ever happened, act like my friend isn't some killer? In case you've forgotten, this isn't really what normal people do."

He nodded, choosing his next words carefully. "Remember that roof that collapsed on those three hundred middle-schoolers in New York back in January?"

This apparent change in topic grabbed her attention. "Of course. CBS covered it for two days, it had faulty support beams."

"Yeah, that was part of it. The real problem was the ghost of a mother whose child had been bullied there. She brought down the roof. Friends of ours didn't pick up the case until too late."

"Oh my god…a_ ghost _did that?"

"And that senator from Ohio who offed himself?" Dean continued. "A witch cursed him with violent depression. Sam and I managed to kill her before she got to anyone else. And yeah, fairies are quite the devious little bitches, too. They lie and they deceive, and sometimes they seriously hurt people."

She rubbed her forearm. "I guess so."

"Heather, there's a point to all this. You gotta believe me. This world is full of a lot of dangerous creatures. Me and Sam and Bobby and a whole bunch of other people are just trying to make sure they don't hurt the good people, all us humans. And that Rou that took you, sure it looked human, but I promise you there would've been no hesitation to kill you if Erica didn't show up. There's not really a lot of room for empathy and mercy in our line of work."

"I…I'm realizing that now." Heather sighed deeply. "And I'm sorry for snapping at you. The whole idea of wretched monsters is just hard to grasp."

Dean gave a small smile. "You're taking it like you're supposed to. Hell, I'd be a little worried if you were all hunky-dory with it. Let us worry about all the big bad monsters for now, you're doing a bang-job looking after Erica anyway."

"Well somebody's gotta keep y'all sane." She grinned at him, then glanced back at the motel as she heard the door open and Sam walked out.

She waved at him as Dean gave a thumbs up. The two started walking back toward the room, eager to settle the girls' argument and move on.

Heather had quite a few thoughts running through her head, though. Dean had surprised her, as he often seemed to do. He really did care about saving people, and that struck a very positive chord with her. He seemed to be quite…human, honestly, with as compassionate as he really was. And he's just trying to do the right thing with what he knew how to do.

This new understanding of him was strange for Heather.

But not unwelcome.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the longer-than-average wait, dearest viewers...much love and thanks for the continued support! **

**Enjoy.**

Heather gave three firm knocks on the door, then rocked back on her heels. She was in no rush for it to be answered, but Erica was.

"Sam's text said for us to come to their room a bit early, so here we are. Why isn't he opening the door?"

"Maybe because I'm outside of it?" Both girls jumped at the voice, but turned to see Sam himself coming down the motel hallway. From the looks of his sweatpants and damp hair, he was returning from his morning run.

Heather stepped aside to give him access to the lock and the three of them filed in. Erica headed straight for the coffee pot while Sam chunked his shoe at Dean's sleeping form on the far bed. "Dean, get up! I told you they'd be here earlier."

Before he ducked into the bathroom with clean clothes, Heather asked, "Hey Sam, can I use your laptop for a minute?" He nodded his agreement and she grabbed it from his duffel.

Heather strode to the couch, sinking into the cushions and opening up her email. Deleting spam, reading news bulletins, the usual procedure. She'd just opened what looked to be a great coupon from J. Crew when someone landed on the couch beside her. Through a sideways glance she saw Dean, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"How can you look at a friggin' bright screen this early?"

She shrugged, not looking away from her screen, "I'm a morning person."

"What's so intriguing?" he asked, scooting close to look at the laptop. His voice leapt up an octave as he teased, "Ooh I could get a pretty new skirt!"

"Shut up." She elbowed his ribs, the corners of her mouth faintly upturned. "It was either this or looking at thesis research from the professor I'm working with."

"Sure thing, Heat. Either way, I'll leave _you_ be." He tweaked her side for emphasis as he stood up.

Heather had squeaked, however, making him turn back around. "No way." he breathed, sitting back down and reaching for her retreating form.

"Now Dean, hang on, let's reconsider thi – AAH!" She melted into giggles as his fingers moved across her waist. "Dehehean! You're such a chihild!" she managed to get out between laughs.

"Mm, yes, I've been told that before." He was grinning, too.

Suddenly her leg shot out and kicked him right in the shin, and the tickling stopped as soon as it had started. "Ow, Heather!" he rubbed the bruise forming.

She smiled, face flushed as she caught her breath. "Serves you right."

Erica rolled her eyes as Dean finally left her friend alone, and Sam emerged from the bathroom with a puzzled expression.

The shenanigans were forgotten though, as Sam reclaimed his laptop and began sharing his information with two eager faces and a groggy one. "So another item on our list is this 'Black Caesar's treasure', but specifically the iron ring he used to moor his ship."

"The guy used a single iron ring for his whole ship?" Dean questioned.

His brother shrugged. "Magic, I guess. Anyway, his whole operation was based in and around Florida, and the ring was supposedly buried within the coral of an island." He held up his hand to stop the inevitable flow of questions. "But it was discovered on Florida shores recently and put up for auction, where it was sold to a guy in Nebraska."

Dean stood up with a grin. "Hey it's our lucky day!"

"Not quite, man. This guy then sold it to an exclusive private artifact company, and that company is under investigation for alleged arms dealing. It's gonna be difficult getting in."

They sat in a contemplative silence for a few minutes. Heather was mostly interested in figuring out how she would entertain herself while the others were busy finding a way into a secretive artifact business…

Wait.

"Guys, hear me out, cause I might actually be able to help with this one."

Sam tilted his head. "How?"

"This is a business, right? Hello, _business law_ graduate!" Her smile kept growing, but the others had yet to be convinced.

"What would you do?" Erica asked gently.

"Y'all are good at the whole faking-cops thing, but this place won't exactly be wanting more FBI around since they're already under investigation. If you're businessmen, however, I might be able to work a little lawyer-liaison magic and get us that ring."

Erica and Sam both nodded. Dean looked at Heather's hopeful face and shrugged. "Sure, it'll probably work. And besides, we could use a little more variety in our act, eh Sammy?"

* * *

><p>Heather and Erica made their way back to the Impala and the waiting boys. Two hours out from the heart of Nebraska, they'd decided to stop and change into the necessary clothes.<p>

"Yeah, Heat, I'd be a little intimidated seeing you from the other side of the courtroom." Dean smirked, gesturing to her dark skirtsuit and hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.

Heather rolled her eyes as the four took their spots inside the car. "I've never seen the inside of a courtroom and you know it, Dean. But don't make me drag you into one!"

"Drive, Winchester." Erica ordered. "Let the lawyer lady help me figure out how the hell this skirt zipper works."

Sam was the first one out of the car once they'd reached the building that read _Gravois Exclusives_. "You sure we can pull this off, Heather? Cause Dean and I could still do the FBI stunt if necessary."

She smoothed her blazer and picked up her briefcase. "I'd appreciate it if we could go ahead and get this transaction rolling, Mr. Cooper." She tacked a smile onto her statement to show her teasing.

The suit-clad brothers led the way into the modern building as Erica's heels clicked next to Heather's. Sunbeams fell in through the skylights, and the four made a formidable-looking assemblage. They approached the front desk and Dean nodded to the (regrettably male) receptionist, nametag reading Jonathan. "I'm Dean Cooper, this is my brother Sam. Cooper Enterprises out of Florida, maybe you've heard of us?"

The man slowly shook his head and scrutinized the business card Dean handed him. The ID shop had done a good job with the cards, and so he seemed to take them more seriously.

"We're interested in looking at one of your recent acquirements for possible purchase." Sam announced. "Our lawyer should be able to help resolve all the details."

Heather stepped forward and offered a sweet smile. "May we speak with your CEO or director of artifacts, please? Whichever is available to help us out."

The receptionist paged the director and motioned for the group to be seated. Heather muttered to the taller Winchester, "Receptionist didn't ask much, that means the director's gonna have most of the deep questions."

"You'll be doing most of the talking, _Ms. Barton_," Dean interjected, "Erica and I don't wanna deal with all this legal jargon."

"Damn right. Handguns are my thing, not handshakes." Erica smirked, then continued, "But here I am as the legal assistant, even though I'm about ready to pull out my weapon and…help this company obtain that fascinating piece in the most amicable way."

Heather was about to question her friend's abrupt sentence change when she turned and saw a graying man approaching them. She stood and the other three followed suit.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Gravios, I'm Heather Barton. Cooper Enterprises is very interested in seeing a particular new piece of yours."

His curt smile was unnerving. "Yes, Jonathan informed me. We are not, however, inclined to be in the business of marketing our items right now. I'm sure you'll understand, as we're dealing with a bit of internal auditing."

"I do understand that, sir, but the Mr. Coopers and I are willing to work with you through this delicate time, as well as compensate heavily for the item." She said pleasantly, then lowered her voice as she leaned in knowingly. "And I'd also hate for the FBI to catch wind of, perhaps, your keen little maneuver with some subtle tax evasion last fall."

His facial features displayed confusion and annoyance, mixed with the slightest hint of fear. "Of course. And which item exactly are you looking for?"

Mr. Gravois led the group back to the artifact storage room, and directed them to the desired ring. It resided inside a glass case so as to keep the remaining iron from oxidizing with the air.

Dean spoke first. "Yes sir, this is the one we're after. Should we just start throwing prices around or…?"

There was still hesitation. "May I ask what the acute interest in the ring is about?"

"Floridian piece of history, it really should be back in –" Sam and his winning smile were cut off by Heather's expertise.

"It should be back where it originated, in accordance with the National Origin Act, paragraph seven for reference." Heather mentally kicked herself for not thinking of using that reasoning earlier. "And if you don't mind, Mr. Gravois, you and I should be able to hash out the details of the transaction rather quickly if we get started now."

She ushered the man into the adjacent room, throwing Erica a glance that she hoped read as _I'll try to hurry it along_. Heather and the director sat at the conference table and she retrieved the rather convincing paperwork from her briefcase. After a few minutes of throwing out details and prices, there was a dull _thud_ heard from next door.

Mr. Gravois shot her a questioning look, and she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "My assistant can be a little clumsy sometimes, I'm sure she didn't damage anything."

A second later Dean stuck his head in the doorway. "Would you mind if I, uh, borrowed Ms. Barton for a moment? Just to clarify some details for our end of the deal."

Heather smiled and excused herself, glancing pointedly at Dean as he led her around the corner, gripping her forearm. "Dean, what is going –"

"Look, Heat, we've got it." He cut her off, nodding toward Sam clutching the ring inside his suit jacket. "Sorry, but it was taking a little long the other way. It's really now time to get out of here, cause I saw our buddy Jonathan up there trying to find our little company online."

She nodded slowly, then strode back into the conference room. "I do apologize for this, Mr. Gravois, but it seems some other partners back at Cooper Enterprises would be more interested in a piece elsewhere. Sorry for any inconvenience we caused you, and we'll be on our way now."

The director seemed bewildered, and followed the group warily as they returned to the front desk. The receptionist whispered something in his ear, then turned to Sam. "Would you gentlemen and your lawyers mind staying for just a tad longer? Maybe we could interest you in another of our items?"

"No, um, that's quite all right. Business calls back home!" Sam gave an uncertain grin and the four continued toward the door.

The director had taken the few steps down the hallway to peek into the storage room, then suddenly sprinted back up to the front. "Jonathan, call security! They stole one of our artifacts!"

Hearing this, Dean and Sam broke into a run with the girls at their heels.

"Freeze!" Gruff voices called behind them. When it was obvious that the orders were ineffective, the first shot rang out, making Heather yelp.

Erica looked over her shoulder to see three large security guards standing with their firearms aimed slightly above her companions' heads. But she knew it wouldn't be long til someone actually got shot. Thankfully they reached the Impala and she shoved Heather quickly into the back seat. Dean pealed out onto the road, leaving clouds of dust on the company's driveway in their wake.

For a few minutes the only sound was that of heaving breaths slowly calming down. Then Sam pulled the ring out of his jacket, glancing back at Erica and Heather as they broke into laughter, and soon the brothers found themselves laughing as well.

"Smooth move breaking that glass case open, Sammy, you nearly cracked the entire shelf!" Dean teased.

Erica cut in. "But that director, my god, so stuffy of a man!"

"Y'all didn't have to fake a transaction with him! And then his face when he realized we had the ring was priceless."

"And then those boys in blue were pretty trigger-happy...glad nobody got hurt." Sam glanced at each of the other three, as if needing to confirm the lack of injuries.

"Yeah, I can say I've never had to deal with being shot at by a business before. No wonder the Feds think they're arms dealers!" Heather's comment amused the group to no end, laughter ringing out again. "But speaking of that danger, Sam, I was thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad to get me a bit more acquainted with the hunting life…"

The younger Winchester became quiet. "What do you mean?"

"I should probably get comfortable with a gun in case I have to defend myself. And maybe y'all could even show me a few hand-to-hand moves, so that –"

"No." he said flatly.

Dean cleared his throat, clearly trying to disrupt the growing tension, but to no avail.

"And why not?" Heather retorted indignantly.

Sam turned in his seat so he was looking her dead in the eyes. "You've got law school to get back to, a real life in the normal world waiting you as soon as this hunt is over. I'm not risking exposing you to this life cause you have to be able to get out of it when we're done."

She could tell this was an argument that she wasn't going to win, and she did begrudgingly understand Sam's logic. Not that it made her feel any less useless to the whole hunting process.

* * *

><p>"How are you out of money? Don't you guys participate in the wonderful world of credit card fraud?" Heather rubbed under her eyes in exhaustion.<p>

They had driven four hours before pulling off into the nearest motel and checking in to the single room they could afford.

Dean waved her off, for once too tired to offer snarky banter. "That's his way of not admitting to losing it," Erica grumbled.

"And where's your cash Ms. Upstanding Citizen?" Sam snapped back. Erica decided quickly they all needed a good night's rest under their belts before being allowed to talk to each other.

"I'm out," she responded as calmly as possible. Dean let them into their room and promptly claimed the bathroom.

Erica pulled off her plain grey skirt, deciding it wouldn't hurt to sleep in the same clothes she'd been wearing all day. Heather took her lead and pulled off her blouse, leaving both girls in the tank tops and leggings they'd had on under their business attire.

Erica wasn't sure why she looked over to Sam. _To make sure he wasn't checking her out_, she told herself. The hunter, however, was already breathing deep and slow with his pink lips parted slightly.

"Set an alarm," Heather mumbled as she climbed into the queen bed and pulled the covers up over her blond head.

Erica busied herself on her phone, choosing not to dwell on the fact that she'd been staring at Sam's mouth.

Dean came out of the bathroom, clearly having missed the decency rule. His shirt was missing, leaving him in only his sweatpants.

"Didn't know you owned bottoms that weren't jeans or that it was possible for you not to wear four layers of clothing," Erica called.

Dean ignored her and flopped down on the nearest bed. He didn't bother to get under the covers before falling fast asleep, which was good because it was not the same bed as his brother.

"Uh, Dean?" Erica stepped closer, poking his shoulder. She was fully prepared the beat the hunter awake when Heather sat up. Her wavy hair half obscured her face and she had an adorable path of drool down her chin.

"I don't mind, E. He's harmless," Heather yawned and tucked her face back into the pillow.

"I mind!" Erica hissed, glancing anxiously back to the sleeping Sam. Heather didn't respond and Erica huffed in annoyance. Of all the nights to not have a couch provided in their room!

Maybe she could sneak one of the pillows away from Sam..and sleep on the hardwood floor.

"Screw it," She grumbled before sliding under the covers at the very edge of the bed.

Erica attempted to focus on the steady breathing from the three other people in the room to lull her to sleep and failed. Her skin was practically crawling with nerves. She turned on her side in order to put her back to Sam.

_He's asleep, _she told herself. _He doesn't even know we're sharing a bed. _

Why was she even nervous in the first place? She fought monsters on a daily basis but her stomach was in knots due to some boy.

**Do still review, you wonderful beings! I wanna hear what you have to say!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello everybody! Thanks to all of the loyal readers of this story, and welcome to all newcomers! I hope you're enjoying Heather and Erica's journey with the Winchesters as much as I am :)**

Chapter 10

Erica woke eagerly to her alarm the next morning, all but jumping out of the bed she'd shared with Sam. Neither Winchester moved at the soft harp sounds. Erica padded over to Heather, pulling the covers off to reveal her tangled waves.

"Do you want first shower since I got it last time?" she asked.

Heather nodded wearily and rolled herself to the floor. Erica sat with her back against the wall, long legs stretched out in front of her as her friend stumbled into the bathroom. Sam would be up soon for his morning run. She scrolled through local news articles on her phone before hearing a phone go off.

Dean's ringtone of an electric guitar drew her to his duffel. The caller ID read "Ellen."

She glanced at Dean's sprawled out sleeping form, mentally debating her chances of surviving an attempt to wake him up.

"Hello?" she answered finally.

"You're not Dean." a scratchy female voice came over the line.

Erica immediately went into business mode. "He's asleep right now."

"Oh, you're his hook up of the week?" the voice replied.

"No, can I help you?" Erica replied crisply.

"Sorry honey, no."

"Hold on." Erica tucked the phone against her shoulder and selected a shoe from Dean's bag before tossing it so it landed squarely on Dean's throat. He shot up, gun outstretched.

"Phone, man whore." Dean grumbled an equally insulting response back as she passed him his cell.

_They sleep with guns? _Erica decided she should start doing that. Could be useful.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. We're not too far off. Sure, we can be there by lunch. Yes, that's me asking you to cook. Ellen?" Dean hung up his phone.

"You have a way with women." Erica told him. "What'd she want?"

"She runs a roadhouse not too far from here. Bobby told her we were in the area looking for that magical bird feather."

"White peacock feather." Erica corrected.

Dean waved her off. "Anyway, she and her daughter, Jo, apparently have a personal investment in me and Sam. She wants us to swing by for a visit."

"Dean, we're busy." Erica said shortly. "We can't afford distractions."

"It's lunch, E, not us checking in the Hotel California." Erica frowned faintly at the familiar way with which he used her nickname.

Just then Dean glanced down at his bed and then over to the one his brother occupied, eyes widening. "Please tell me it was Heather I shared a bed with. Not that you're not great and all…but…" His eyes cut over to Sam.

My god, had he noticed? Or had Sam simply told him?

Erica shrugged, making the older Winchester scowl. "Seriously." he demanded.

"I don't see why it's so important." Erica traipsed off as Heather exited the bathroom.

"Heat, did you sleep with me?" Dean called, making Sam start and sit up groggily.

Erica winked and Heather grinned widely. "Why, I don't know what you're talking about."

* * *

><p>Erica could see how uncomfortable Heather was at The Roadhouse. Not because it was so unlike the polished diners she was accustomed eating at; it was because Dean seemed a bit too familiar with Jo.<p>

Heather had her arms crossed and, even though Ellen was speaking to them, kept glancing over her shoulder at the flirtatious pair.

"An alpha Rou? That's one hell of a hunt you've found yourself." Ellen noted.

"Erica found it actually." Sam nodded to the older hunter.

"Yeah, well I wouldn't have been able to save Heather if it wasn't for y'all." Erica said shrugging.

Sam's hazel eyes went soft for a second and Erica pursed her lips, refusing to look at him.

"How long have you been hunting, dear?" Ellen asked her. Erica was glad for the distraction.

"Since I was 17. My parents raised me in it, though they're retired now."

Ellen nodded. "That's good that they could get out of the life like that."

"They like to think so." Erica smiled.

"Hey Dean." Ellen called. "Mind if you and Sam come move some stuff out back for me?"

"I see the real reason you called us. Manual labor isn't free, Ellen." Dean tutted.

"Good thing you're just boys then." Sam laughed at Dean's mock hurt face.

Once they were out the back door, Jo sauntered over to Erica and Heather.

"I just remembered I left my phone in the car." Heather murmured, skirting out the door.

It wasn't like Heather to be impolite. Erica had seen something going on between her best friend and Dean. Maybe it was more than she made it out to be.

"I don't see how you can tolerate sitting a car with them for countless hours. These little visits are about all I can take of Dean. Sam's not too bad." Jo allowed.

"How long have you known them?" Erica asked instead of responding to the comment.

Jo shifted on her feet. "A few months maybe. I went on a hunt with them one time. It wasn't what I imagined it would be."

She laughed wryly. "My sister, Maureen, has this fantasy where hunting is this glorious thing that she can't wait to be a part of."

Jo nodded along. "It's not bad necessarily, just different. Very different." She waved her hand towards the door. "I don't think your friend likes me very much."

"I'm not sure what's up with her." Erica said.

"Well, I could make a solid guess. But you're her friend, aren't you? Go see." Jo instructed.

Yes, because Erica was just so great about discussing feelings.

"Heat?" Erica called as she approached the impala. Heather was sitting on the trunk, but she didn't want to startle her.

"Are the guys ready?" She asked.

"No, they're still with Ellen." Erica responded.

When Heather didn't say more, she slid on the trunk beside her. She opened her mouth and shut it, trying to decide how to start this conversation. She was really bad at girl talk.

"I knew it. I don't know why I'm letting it get to me. I knew he slept around a lot. Hell, I did too. I knew I wasn't really special. But seeing Jo...seeing Dean with her hurts. I let myself actually get jealous over him. How stupid was that?" Heather laughed dryly.

Erica licked her lips, preparing for an awkward conversation, maybe a hug if needed.

"I see you with Sam and you've got everything so perfectly sorted through with him. And I tried to do that with Dean, but I'm not like you. I like flirting and I like doing it with him. Is it so horrible to think he's a good person?"

"You don't want to be like me." Erica said by way of reply.

"But you know exactly what you want. Exactly how you feel."

"Is that really how you see me? Because I'm a damn mess. And I'm so damn confused because I've been too stubborn to let myself feel anything before this. So now that I do…" Erica cut herself off, rubbing her hands under her eyes.

"I'm hurting Sam." she whispered finally. "And that hurts me and it shouldn't. I shouldn't let it. But I can't figure out how to make it stop." Erica looked over at her friend suddenly. "Go talk to Dean." she said.

Heather's eyebrows rose. Then she promptly got down and straightened out her jacket. "You're right."

She began to walk off before turning around. "I think Sam would understand if you told him all that. He would help you work through it at least. He's a really great guy if you take time to notice it."

"I have."

Heather nodded shortly and strode off. Erica sighed and swung her legs back to the ground. She heard a scuff behind her and whipped around, gun already removed from her boot and ready to fire. Sam stood off aways.

Erica read his face in an instant. He'd heard everything.

"Erica." He started forward.

Erica seriously considered shooting him for half a second, then Heather, then herself for being so idiotic.

Instead, she tucked the gun away. "No." she breathed.

"Just let me talk." Sam held up his hands.

"That's all you do Sam." Erica ran her hands up and down the tops of her thighs. "But talking doesn't fix anything." She turned and headed back to The Roadhouse.

"Maybe because you refuse to say anything that will make you vulnerable!"

Erica didn't like fighting. She didn't like that she could make Sam this upset. She especially didn't want to shout anything back in her anger. So she merely turned away and left him there.

..

Heather's stride toward the back of the roadhouse had started off strong and determined. But as her target came into view, her steps became hesitant. What was she even supposed to say to Dean? At this point her only argument was _I know who I am, but not what I want _and that wasn't going to get anybody anywhere.

Like she'd told Erica, this whole flirting deal with Dean was just in good fun. Something to ease her mind of the madness she'd been thrown into. But now that she had seen him with another potential object of affection, it made her upset, and that made her uneasy. She knew she'd been forming an attachment to him but she wasn't interested in it making a huge difference.

Nonetheless, she'd been hoping to be the only blonde on his radar for awhile.

She stepped into their line of sight as the Dean was hauling the last crate of wood through the back door. "I know Sammy went back to the car for his phone, and now he's sent you as his replacement? Man, I've gotta teach that kid some manners." Dean shot her a killer grin and laughed at his own jesting.

"Might wanna learn some yourself, barn animal." Ellen said with a glint in her eye. "You came trampling up in my place in those dirty boots!"

Heather snickered at Dean's pursed lips, then sombered as she noticed Jo pass by the window. Thankfully, neither Dean nor Ellen noticed.

The older woman instead crossed her arms. "Joking aside, Dean, I think I can actually help you guys out on this hunt."

"With all due respect, ma'am, I'm not letting you or Jo come with us. We can handle it, plus we've already got a full crew in the Impala."

"Would ya listen, Winchester?" Ellen jerked her thumb toward the roadhouse. "I'm trying to tell ya that I've got a feather like the one you're looking for."

Heather's head snapped up. "You've got a white peacock feather? That'd be great!"

"Yeah, hon. Y'all c'mon and get it."

Dean and Heather followed her to a back storage room and watched as she rifled through a few cardboard boxes. Sure enough, from a box marked 'Misc.', she pulled out a long white feather with the telltale eye-pattern at its tip.

"You are an angel." Dean said as he carefully took it from her and placed it in a plastic bag.

"And don't you forget it." she offered with a warm smile. "Now I just heard that front bell ring so I'm gonna go see what kinda patrons stumbled in for lunch."

As her footsteps echoed down the hallway, Dean stated, "We can swing out back to pick up my jacket, then head to the car for Sam and E before we say our goodbyes."

They retraced their steps back outside where Dean began the search for his jacket. "I know I left the damn thing out here…"

Heather saw worn leather peeking out from behind a barrel and grasped it, holding it out for its owner. "This it?"

"Nah, I'm looking for the other leather jacket I always wear." He smirked, taking it from her and dusting it off. "But yeah, thanks."

Heather's stomach twisted into knots as she realized this was going to be the best time to talk with Dean privately. How was she even gonna start? Well, she could try the…

"Hey, Heat?" Dean snapped his fingers in front of her face. "What's with you? You've seemed off today. Better not be gettin' sick."

She forced a smile. "Oh, no I'm not sick. I feel fine. But anyway, um, well I was curious about Jo. How long have you known her?" Struggling for words was unnerving for Heather, and she could only hope that her question seemed casual enough.

When she turned to look at Dean, however, his knowing grin made her heart drop.

"Well we've worked a hunt or two with her. Nice girl, takes after her mom, stubborn as hell. Why do you wanna know?"

Heather looked away as she racked her brain for an answer. "Oh, you know, I was just curious. Wondered if she started out to all this hunting stuff like me."

"Right." His voice was steady, strong like the rest of him. And she daren't look his way. "Well I think you've realized by now, Heat, that I know a lot about how women work."

He watched her mouth contort into a small smirk, and continued. "And so I know that you probably wouldn't be asking _me_ about Jo unless you were dealing with a bit of the green-eyed monster."

Heather sharply turned to Dean, ready to fire back that _he_ was a green-eyed monster, only to find that he had stepped quite close to her. Hands bumping together, shoulders aligned, eyes boring into each other's.

And lips. God, those lips were close.

"So you were a little jealous." he said barely above a whisper.

She nodded, regaining some of her confidence. "I thought we had a good thing going."

He cocked her half a grin, then leaned in. She met him halfway, their lips pressing together feverishly. His hands found her shoulders and she caressed his cheek as their mouths moved together, finding each other's rhythm.

Heather was the first to pull away, beaming. But it was Dean who spoke first, smile matching hers.

"Good thing going, huh?"

She shrugged nonchalantly as her hands snuck behind his neck. "Yeah, I like to think so." She kissed him once more, short and sweet, before turning and walking back towards the Impala.

Flouncing probably better described her movements, but she'd never admit to that.

* * *

><p>"Two more exits 'til we're in Iowa." Sam stated. "I think we can call it a night after that."<p>

"Then do you think we can make it to the Cincinnati…geology showcase, was it? Can we get there by closing in two days?" Heather pondered aloud.

Sam answered "Definitely" at the same time that Erica said "Maybe." Immediately both looked away.

"It's still four states away," the latter continued, "but maybe with Dean's driving we'll make it."

Dean petted the dashboard as a Lynyrd Skynyrd song came on. "See Baby? They're starting to trust us."

The foursome stopped at the first motel within Iowa lines, booking once again into only one room. Gotta save money, right? This time, however, a couch was provided, making the sleeping arrangements easier to manage.

"I'm on the sofa." Sam offered, surprisingly without a fight.

"E and I get window bed," Heather said, then turned to the elder Winchester, "and you'll not be joining me this time."

She swatted at his pouting face only to see, regrettably, the realization dawning on him.

"So it was you I shared a bed with." Dean's shit-eating grin was still irresistible, and she faintly blushed.

Man, it was good to have him back to herself.

Sighing in defeat, Heather quickly grabbed her pajamas and headed for the bathroom. When she reemerged a few minutes later, she saw Erica laying down, facing the wall. _Do hunters always sleep on top of the sheets? _The more disconcerting matter, however, was Erica's general lack of communication since they'd left the roadhouse, particularly with Heather herself.

Erica had stonewalled her about talking to Sam, and Heather hadn't had the heart to share her own good news about Dean. She hoped that with a little rest and time to mull, they could then talk things through.

Until then, though, the show must go on. "And in the next act," she muttered, smiling at her own wit, "our characters search for a mysterious opal."

**Don't forget to review, dearest readers! Tell me all your thoughts! :3**


	11. Chapter 11

**I hope all of you, my wonderful readers and reviewers (could use more of those :P), had a wonderful Christmas and will continue to have great holiday seasons! Same goes to those even if you don't celebrate it, hope y'all had a great December 25th :)**

**SO here's the next part!**

Chapter 11

"It didn't go well yesterday."

Erica had plopped in front of Heather on the motel couch, coffee in one hand and the other tangled in her long locks, voice hushed so as to not wake the still-sleeping Winchesters.

Heather gave a sympathetic nod, silently glad that her friend was ready to share. "I'm very sorry, hon. What did you guys talk about? How did you explain it to him?"

"Well, I actually didn't have to explain anything…he was standing a bit behind us and heard everything you and I were saying."

"Wow, he's stealthy." She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "So then what did Sam have to say?"

Erica sighed. "I didn't let him speak. I had to get away cause, I don't know, whatever would've been said was only going to hurt more."

Heather was dumbfounded, to say the least. "So when you say it didn't go well, you mean it didn't actually _go_ at all?"

There was no reply.

"So what's your plan? Ignoring each other really isn't the way to best move forward with the hunt."

"Sam did say one thing before I walked away." Erica rerouted, pausing as Heather tilted her head. "He said that I was afraid to be vulnerable. And dammit he's right. Cause that's all a romantic connection would bring, vulnerability and compromise to both of us as hunters."

Heather's face softened, and she put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Humans, too."

"What?"

"You're human, too, and wanting someone is normal for humans. Remember that."

Erica only had time to offer a grateful smile before Dean emerged from the bathroom with a dangerous glint in his eye. "So which one of you ladies was in a rush to change last night?"

In his hand he held up a black bra with a small red bow in the front. It was agonizingly familiar to Heather.

"Oh my god, sorry about that. You can give it back now." She hurried over to him and made a grab for the bra, fighting the warmth rising to her cheeks, only for Dean to hold it behind him again.

"I could…but I might not."

Heather smirked. "Why, you gonna wear it?"

His face fell, only for a second, before regaining its composure. "Very funny, Heat. For that, you're definitely not getting it back."

"Dean." She warned, trying to reach around him for her favored undergarment. It was a half-hearted threat, mostly likely, but you could never know.

Sure enough, Dean merely tossed it over her head where it landed in Sam's luggage. He threw her a wink as she turned to retrieve it, earning an eye-roll from the blonde.

After placing the bra safely back in her own duffel, Heather returned to her seat beside Erica. One look from her friend and she realized the other girl had seen her whole exchange with Dean.

"So you and the charmer over there are all good now?"

Heather snuck a glance at the broad shoulders pulling on the flannel of the day. "Yeah, we're definitely all good."

An hour later the group was ready to hit the road for the full day of driving. Dean checked them out of the motel as Sam and Erica loaded up all the luggage and other paraphernalia, while Heather was elected to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything in the room.

By the time she came out of the motel, the others were already waiting in the car. She went and opened the Impala's left rear door as usual, and was surprised to find Sam sitting in her spot.

"Uh, Sam? What're you doing?"

"I'm sitting in this spot." he said with a grin that was anything but innocent. For good measure, he crossed his legs across the middle of the seat. "And there's no other room back here."

Heather looked at Erica for some kind of explanation, but she seemed equally as puzzled at Sam's actions, and was probably a bit perturbed that her object of avoidance was now placed quite close to her.

But Heather's heart essentially dropped off a cliff when a thought hit her. _When Sam heard our conversation, not only is that what E said about him, but what I said about Dean!_

So this was the younger brother's version of an intervention. What a passive-aggressive little twerp.

Heather knew he'd win this one, so in defeat she walked around the front of the car to claim her new spot in the passenger seat.

She opened the door and slid in, relishing the increased leg room and the unobstructed view through the windshield. In her peripheral vision she noticed that Dean was giving Sam a puzzled look in the rearview mirror, but soon he turned to her and said, "Welcome to the catbird seat!"

Those beautiful green eyes crinkled when he smiled at her, and Heather realized that her new seat might not be bad at all.

When they were a few minutes down the road, Dean abruptly lowered the Metallica song blaring through the speakers. "So what's your go-to genre, Heat? And for the love of god, don't say classical or somethin' stupid like that."

She shrugged. "I'm one of those annoyingly passive people that doesn't really care what's playing."

"Oh c'mon."

"Well," she thought for a moment, "oftentimes I'll put on some jazz when I'm working on papers and whatnot. Instrumental, of course."

"And that's better than classical…how?" He tore his eyes for a moment to furrow his eyebrows at her. "Heat, work with me on this. What's the stuff that just really gets you to let loose?"

"Dean, honestly, a good beat will do. And sometimes that means singing the entire soundtrack of The Lion King as a one-woman show in my apartment, other times it's whatever 90s rap comes on in a downtown club on my occasional Friday night out."

She batted her eyes at his profile when she saw a small grin etched on his face. "And yeah, your music's not that bad either."

"You kiddin' me, Heat?" His face harbored a full-blown smile as he turned the rock back up. "This is the best there is."

..

Erica really didn't mind listening to Heather and Dean's somewhat sappy banter, and it got easier when Dean turned up the music to ear-splitting volume. What she did mind was the fact that Sam had taken it upon himself to cross his legs on the middle seat so he nearly touched her. Erica eyed the little sliver of space between them, willing it to grow wider.

"Don't know why you're uncomfortable." Sam mused.

With the music cranked so loud, Erica could barely make out his words and assumed it was safe to talk.

"You have no feelings for me, so there's no need to be. Though, sometimes I wonder if you have emotions at all. If so, maybe that's why it seems so easy for you to not care what others are feeling." he continued.

"You don't really think that." Erica snapped in irritation.

"Since when do you even care what I think, Erica?" he snapped right back. He shifted closer, which, due to his lack of seatbelt, wasn't too hard. Erica traced her fingers along her own seatbelt sitting across her chest.

"You're a good hunter Sam. A bit sloppy at covering your tracks sometime, but good." she said formally.

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You know damn well that's not what we're talking about, but whatever."

He moved back to his own side of the car and proceeded to glare at a Sudoku puzzle he had set on his lap.

Erica pressed her forehead to the window, not caring if Dean complained about smudges later.

She couldn't grasp why Sam would not leave her be. She was certain she gave him no signals of encouragement.

In hunting there's no time to think or second guess yourself. Sam gave her time to think. She should be grateful for that but she wasn't. Because her first instinct with him was to run fast and far. But when she thought about it, thought about Sam, she wanted to stay, and that scared her more than he and his brother's horrible track record ever could.

She was a solo hunter. She wasn't that great around people. Not long term at least. Sure, she enjoyed having Heather around to talk to. Even Dean's experience was a valuable asset to her, if not offset by his nonstop chatter. And Sam kept up with her on a mental level, which she appreciated.

But this wasn't permanent.

That had to be a constant reminder in her brain. She wasn't scorned by some dark past. She was just practical. And allowing herself to fantasize about a life with Heather and Dean, much less Sam, was not remotely possible.

_It's not fair. _

The thought bubbled up before she could stop it. Sam and Dean had each other to rely on. Watching them, she found herself stupidly wanting a relationship like that. She wanted someone that she shared utter trust and companionship with.

A knot tied itself in her throat.

"Stop it, E." She whispered to herself.

She couldn't afford the luxury of daydreaming.

* * *

><p>Dean stretched lazily as they pulled into the nearly empty diner parking lot.<p>

"Sammy, go grab us a table," Dean called. Sam rolled his eyes but followed after the quickly-exiting Erica.

Dean was well aware his brother and their newest added hunter were in the midst of a romantic battle, but at the moment he had his own pretty lady to worry about.

He caught Heather's waist as she tried to go inside.

"I did say Sam, yes?" he teased.

Heather smirked up at him. "Erica got to go." she faked a pout.

"Well, it'd be a tad awkward if she stayed." he replied before kissing her.

"Agreed." Heather murmured as she curled her hands into the collar of his leather jacket.

Dean walked her back against Baby and trailed his hands down to settle in the curve of her hips. He enjoyed kissing her. He enjoyed just being in her presence, actually. She wasn't a push over, but she wasn't all prickly like a hunter.

Heather angled her head away, breaking the kiss.

"Oh, dear." Dean turned and waved to the elderly woman with her hands over her mouth.

"Sorry, ma'am." Heather called.

"No, no. Carry on. I just had a flashback to my youth. We did much more explicit things on the hoods of cars." Dean laughed as the woman toddled off into the diner.

"I think she was making a suggestion." Dean smirked and brushed his lips against hers briefly. "I'm seriously starving though. Think you can restrain yourself till another time, Heat?" he purred in her ear.

Heather shoved at him lightly. "You're one to talk." she muttered before striding into the diner.

Sam glanced up at her from the table he and Erica had claimed. The latter was dutifully typing away on her phone, probably nose deep in research.

"Good stretching session?" Sam asked with a twinkle to his hazel eyes.

"The best, Sammy. Let's chow." Dean clapped his shoulder and seated himself at a chair readily.


	12. Chapter 12

**I hope everybody's had a great New Years! **

**Alright guys, I hate to be a stickler, but this story is really slacking on reviews, and I really do want to make sure that people are still interested in reading it! Please continue to let me know your thoughts about this creation of mine as y'all were so good at doing at the beginning!**

**Much love, and enjoy!**

Sam shut the door in a surprisingly delicate fashion as he returned from his breakfast errand, having a streak of compassion for his brother bumbling around the motel room and Erica as she still slept soundly.

Heather took the orange he handed her, running her fingers over the rough rind. "And you always have a banana, Sam?"

"Potassium for the running. I'd hate to die from collapsing with a cramp after all this damn hunting." He grinned, then headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Heather finished her fruit, then picked up the newspaper Sam had left on the counter. She opened it up to the middle and leafed through a few pages, glancing at a few of the stock changes.

The elder Winchester padded across the carpet in front of her, knees cracking and hair sticking up every which way. The next page of the paper held the comics, so she read a few of the dorky ones to him, earning that lopsided grin she loved.

Dean in turn sidled up next to her and crept a hand around her waist. "Mornin', Heat." he murmured against her ear.

She closed the newspaper as to give him her full attention, but one of the smaller front headlines caught her eye. "Hang on, Dean." She moved a couple steps away and kept reading.

_Lincoln's Law Notes to be Auctioned Off at Estate Sale_

Heather scanned the next few lines of the article and her head shot up. "Sam!"

"What?" He rushed out of the bathroom at her urgent call, hair flopping in his eyes. "Something wrong?"

She ignored his question and the inquisitive gaze from the other man beside her. "Did you ever study Abraham Lincoln as a lawyer when you were at Stanford?"

"I, uh…what?" His eyebrows furrowed at her inquiry. "Sure, a few criminal law classes covered him."

"One of my biggest undergraduate papers was about his work in law!" Her hazel eyes were bright with excitement, and the newspaper crinkled under her grip. "And now his 'Notes for a Law Lecture' are gonna be on display right over in Springfield!"

"Whoa." he breathed, interest now thoroughly peaked. He moved to stand beside her and she pointed out a few lines in the article. "That'd be incredible to see!"

By now the commotion had woken up Erica, who sat up and mumbled, "Guys, what the hell are you on and on about?"

"Some stupid law –"

"Handwritten law notes from _the_ Abe Lincoln." Heather interrupted Dean's grumpy interjection. "The wealthiest widow in Illinois passed away a few weeks ago, and tonight is her estate sale. She was apparently in possession of Lincoln's notes and so they'll be there!"

Erica dragged a hand across her face and stretched her long limbs. "You wouldn't be suggesting we detour and go see these notes, now would you?"

"C'mon, E, it's not that far out of our way. It'd just be a one-evening deal! And these notes are kinda special to me and my line of work, you know that."

Sam turned to his brother, intercepting whatever dissent he was about to throw. "Dean, we could use a break, we've been working nonstop for a few weeks."

"Please, Dean?" Heather took her turn with him, voice gentle and almost unbearably sweet. "I really would like to see this in person. I'd like to get something out of our jaunt across the country!"

He barked out a laugh. "And what about all the 'we saved your life' stuff and how we're 'keeping others safe'? For a lawyer, Heat, that argument is crap." He paused to glance at the clock and purposefully avoided his brother's stare, which no doubt would hold the puppy-dog look.

Rolling his eyes, Dean looked at Erica and they shrugged. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad." The latter mused.

Heather high-fived Sam and kissed Dean on the cheek, then grabbed the map so as to plan their slightly alternate route through Springfield before they fully headed for the opal in Cincinnati.

A few minutes later, Erica's concerned voice floated over to her. "Now Heather, what type of dress code are we looking at?"

* * *

><p>"Haven't lost an ounce of my touch." Erica proudly declared, brandishing the curling iron like one of her many steel blades.<p>

Heather giggled. "Nice to see you're still dramatic with your cosmetics. Some things never change."

"Well you should consider doing that 'cause we leave in twenty minutes." Sam stood in the bathroom doorway, scrutinizing the women not yet changed into their dresses.

"Lay off, Winchester," Heather retorted, "all in good time."

"Calling me Winchester doesn't really work. There's two of us."

She frowned at his sass and shooed him out of the way as she fished for the soft maroon material of her dress within the depths her duffel. Slipping it on when both boys were turned away, she clasped the top of the zipper before striding toward the fridge for a long drink of water.

As she straightened, there was suddenly a hand at the bottom of her back, resting on the still-undone zipper. She whirled around, met with Dean's explanation even before she could see his face (and make sure he wasn't inspecting her moderately low neckline). "You seemed to forget something." It was hard to ignore how dashing the elder Winchester looked in his suit.

With a small, coy smile playing on her lips, Heather locked eyes with him and proceeded to zip up her dress entirely. "A woman who can't zip her own dress is one incapable of independent life."

Dean scoffed. "Alright Socrates, just trying to help."

Her loose skirt swished slightly above her knees as she bustled away for her shoes and finishing touches of jewelry. Erica had already donned her dress, a lovely green color with lace overlay. Once the women were ready, they followed the suit-clad brothers toward the Impala.

By the time they'd reached the huge mansion housing the estate sale, Heather had redone her updo three times. She slipped one last bobby pin in a blonde flyaway as she slipped out of the passenger seat before Dean came over and gently took her wrist.

"Alright, you've pinned enough, and you look great. Now come on and enjoy these damn notes." He gave her the wink which she now regarded with feigned annoyance. "You dragged us here anyway."

Heather smiled eagerly at Sam and he beamed equally in return. "Are you ready to see Lincoln's real writings? This is huge!" She managed to fall in step with the much taller man as they led the way inside.

Sam held the door open for his three companions and it was then that Heather caught Erica's eye, throwing her a look to remind her of their earlier agreement.

"_Yes, Sam and I will be fine at the event tonight."_

"_Are you sure?" Heather pressed. "I'd rather there not be stony coldness or fiery outbursts to mess up this attempt at a night out."_

_Erica nodded. "I promise. Think of it as gracefully ignoring each other. We won't cause any problems." She continued nonchalantly, "And you and Dean should be working on keeping your lips to yourselves."_

Heather found herself smiling at that last thought, but traded it for a look of soft wonderment as the foursome entered the main hall. It was teeming with life, ladies and gentlemen milling around and surveying the different items for sale or auction, and for once the Winchesters and their companions had no ulterior motive to do otherwise.

This late widow, surname Harrington if Heather remembered correctly, she sure had an exceptional interior decorator; all the best aspects of the rooms were highlighted beautifully.

Pale curtains rested beside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The main marble stairwell was contrasted by a banister of fine dark wood. The ceiling had intricate gold filigree around its edges, and from its center hung a grand crystal chandelier illuminated by candles.

"My god, imagine living here, as your day-to-day house. It's gorgeous." Heather marveled, wide-eyed.

Dean stole a sideways glance at her, then set his jaw. _No chick-flick moments._

Erica snapped Heather out of her admiration for a nearby tapestry by brushing a loose hair off her shoulder.

"Thanks, E." the latter said. "Now usually at these types of functions, it's not that hard to find delightful flutes of something bubbly." At that moment a serving waiter walked by with a tray of champagne. "Well, speakin' of the devil."

"We try not to do that." Sam muttered, earning a laugh from the other three. "Now c'mon, Heather, let's go find those notes."

Turns out it wasn't very hard to do so, seeing as there was a large sign in front of the even larger glass case the old, crinkled papers were being held it. Sam and Heather brushed their way to the front, with Dean and Erica flanking behind to see the apparently fascinating artifacts.

"Wow, Sam, look." She released her grip on his elbow, easing closer to read the centuries-old handwriting, filling with a sense of pride at her own profession.

_The leading rule for the lawyer is diligence._

_These fiends…a moral tone ought to be infused into the profession which should drive such men out of it._

_Resolve to be honest in all events._

These were a few of the lines that Heather whispered to herself and that Erica overheard. "Well I know you'll make a damn good lawyer, Heat." The friends grinned at each other.

"Excuse me, son." a frail voice came from behind them. "I came to see what all this fuss is about but I can't really see anything at all."

They turned to find a white-haired gentleman leaning on his cane, and Sam sheepishly realized he'd been blocking the man's view. "I'm so sorry, sir, go right ahead."

The elderly man smiled and nodded, moving forward and squinting at the yellowed papers. "I can't even tell what these are, young man, do you know?"

Sam maneuvered beside him and began explaining the law notes, diving deeper and deeper into conversation with the small-framed fellow.

Erica pulled her phone out of the one and only clutch she owned. "Guys, my dad left a message for me a few minutes ago, I'm going to step outside to return it."

And she was gone before she could hear Sam's barely audible words spoken during a pause in conversation with the elderly man. "Be safe."

Dean turned to Heather, loosening his necktie a bit. "You seen enough of Honest Abe's scribbles, Heat?"

She slowly nodded her assent, taking one last look at the law notes. "Yeah, it was really good to see them. Thanks again, Dean."

He waved off her gratitude with an almost bashful shrug, green eyes twinkling at hazel ones. Heather glanced around the hall, finally noticing the sheer magnitude of objects and items being sold. "Shall we take a look around?" She offered the hunter with a gentle smile. "I think I saw an antique gun collection around here somewhere."

The pair strolled along the outskirts of the room, slowly and in matching steps. "Here we go, that's what I like to see!" Dean gestured to the center of the hall when he caught sight of the various rifles on a roped-off table.

Heather followed his gaze and they began making their way toward the objects of his fascination. They soon encountered a large mass of people heading their direction. As the crowd swept around them swiftly, Heather felt Dean's hand rest on her lower back to steady her.

Not on her bra, not on her ass, but on the curve of her back, as a true gentleman should. He removed his hand a moment later once the waves of people had passed, leaving her strangely craving his gentle fingers and strong palm supporting her.

As they continued walking, Heather took a moment to truly admire the man next to her. Her heels made her almost exactly his height, providing her with a new angle of his face. The supple eyelashes framing the eyes that teased as often as they portrayed anger or worry. The tan skin taut across the strong jawline, with the five o'clock shadow giving him a rougher look that evening. The muscled shoulders that undoubtedly carried more weight than most people encounter in their life, those same shoulders still somehow as relaxed and easy-going as he was charming.

That was as far as Heather made it in her inspection of the specimen that is Dean Winchester before they reached the rifles. They found Erica already standing there, evidently having finished with her family communications and now spending time with her next best talent: guns.

Erica immediately dragged Heather to the rifles, pointing to each one and soon competing with Dean for the most extensive facts about the guns.

"So did you like the notes?"

Sam's voice came from behind and startled Heather for a moment before she replied, "Of course! They were really great to read, especially for this lawyer lady. And I'm sure for you, too, as a former law student." She added.

"Oh, definitely. Doesn't have much bearing for me as a hunter," he took a swig of his champagne, "but still, Abe Lincoln's writings in person. Pretty cool."

"Could ya turn the nerdiness down a bit, Sammy?" Dean said over his shoulder. "You're hurtin' my ears."

* * *

><p>Back at the motel, Dean was grumbling about how he was still hot from all the time spent in the suit and the suffocating crowds. He lay on the couch with his shirts discarded haphazardly around the door and his pant legs pushed up to his knees.<p>

"You're all sweaty." Erica informed him. "Take a shower."

"Or better yet, go jump in the pool. At least then we won't have to listen to you whining." Sam put in.

Erica couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. During their night off from hunting, she'd found herself significantly more relaxed, especially around Sam. His babbling about law was quite endearing and was strangely sad when she had to leave to go check in with her dad.

"Sammy, do you know how dirty that water probably is?" Dean sat up and Heather's eyes drifted to his tanned and toned stomach.

"Since when are you afraid of playing dirty, Dean?" Sam teased.

Heather let out a quick laugh and ruffled Dean's short hair. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"It can't be that bad." she said.

"Then you won't mind joining me." Dean retorted.

Heather shrugged and went to her suitcase. She was suddenly thankful Erica had warned her to pack for any situation.

"Will this work?" She held up a high waisted bikini.

"Maybe a little too well." Dean mumbled to himself.

"Y'all have to come too." Heather informed Sam and Erica.

"I think Dean was actually looking forward to alone time with you." Sam attempted to free himself from her command.

"We all need the break." Heather stated adamantly.

Sam sighed and retrieved the old swimming trunks he always toted around in his bags. Erica knew better than to protest; Heather had used that expression on her and many unsuspecting businessmen before.

By the time they made it down to the small enclosed pool, it was nearly midnight. Yet, no one in the group appeared tired. Heather stretched out on a lounge chair, which seemed pointless since there was no chance of her catching a tan in the moonlight, even if there hadn't been a ceiling in the way. Dean settled himself down beside her with his long legs dipped into the excessively blue water. Erica sighed and slipped off her cover-up. She figured she might as well swim since she was dragged here.

She adjusted the strap of her simple white one piece and dove gracefully into the shallow pool. She surfaced and pushed her wavy brown hair back out of her face. She blew water off the tip of her nose and rubbed her eyes clear of the burning chlorine in time to see one Sam Winchester running full speed towards the swimming pool. She had enough time to curse before his cannonball swept her under a grand wave.

"You're an absolute ass." she informed him when he swam over with a juvenile smirk.

"Am I?" he replied lightly.

She pushed his shoulder just under the surface of the water and discovered her hand quite inexplicably trapped against his soft skin. His hand had closed over hers to prevent her from retracting it. She longed to throw a harsh comment at him and put distance between them.

But she couldn't seem to force the words out.

He looked so young with his damp brown hair dripping onto his cheekbones. He had a playful smirk on his lips that was unnervingly similar to ones she'd observed Dean offer Heather.

"I am sorry though, if I've acted like one to you recently."

Erica could imagine it: kissing him right there, falling into a relationship, and their happy little group puttering across the country in the impala. So she finally withdrew her hand because she knew better.

"Me too, Sam."

**I also hope y'all have been enjoying the complex interpersonal relationships as they develop! ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay guys, there's a lot of content in this chapter, make sure you read everything!**

**(Small warning: lemon-type content, but definitely lime-like description :D)**

Chapter 13

Sam had promised that he would only be 30 minutes on his run. Erica sat on her bed with her laptop folded in half and propped against her knees. She was rereading the article about one Ezra Rowell who had passed away three years ago. In his possession had been the opal of Koroit. He hadn't left it specifically to any relatives, so it went into the state of Ohio's care. Sam and Erica were handling this retrieval on their own since Dean claimed he was tired of doing all the work for them. Really, Erica believed he wanted to get her best friend in the motel room alone.

But she chose not to dwell on that.

The door opened and Erica glanced up to see one sweaty Sam come in the door.

"I hope you plan on showering." she said.

"I was thinking of going with a scent more...Dean. The unwashed and grizzly thing usually gets people to swing his way."

"Go shower." Erica shook her head with a faint smile.

Sam flashed his dimples back at her before disappearing into the bathroom. Sam had stopped pushing her and Erica was glad because it eased their tension. She didn't like arguing with him.

She locked her laptop and set it on her bed. She grabbed a clip and twisted her usual long braid up into a bun. Today they were disguised as journalists who were writing a piece on the history of the opal. Erica wore simple grey trousers and a blue cardigan buttoned over a tank top.

Sam emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later with his tweed jacket draped over his arm and his light blue shirt damp in some places. His wet hair was neatly combed down the middle.

"Does this say journalist?" He held out his arms so Erica could survey him.

"Sam, I picked that out for you last night. Yes it does. Let's go." she quipped.

Sam plucked up the keys up from the couch where he'd slept and they headed to the Impala, leaving Dean and Heather still fast asleep in their shared bed. It was strange being in the car with Sam behind the wheel, Erica thought. He picked through Dean's preset stations before settling on one playing Queen. They made the hour-long trip steadily down the city's highways before parking at the modern office complex.

Sam drummed his hands on the steering wheel.

"Got your gun?" he asked.

Erica nodded and let herself out of the car. Sam followed suit and swung on his jacket. His hair had thankfully dried on the way over and was now laid softly against his temples. Together they strode up the grey marble steps and into mirror-like double doors.

A young desk clerk with luscious blond curls falling against his glasses looked up at them. Erica fixed her gaze on him, calculating how difficult he would be to overpower if the need came about.

Sam leaned on the desk and said, "Hi there. My name is Clark Joel. This is my partner Sarah Petty."

The boy touched his nametag which read 'Jerry.'

"Great, hi Jerry. Listen, Ms. Petty and I are running a tad late for our meeting with –"

Jerry cut him off. "There's no Joel or Petty in my database."

"What?" Sam feigned surprise. "Well, that's completely unacceptable. What kind of business can't keep track of a simple appointment?"

Erica had given Sam that line since it had worked for her countless times before, but Jerry was not buying it or he simply didn't care.

"I'm sorry Mr. Joel, but you need an appointment to get in. Perhaps you could reschedule and come back another day."

Sam's smile faltered. "I'll need to discuss that with my partner." He grabbed Erica's wrist and dragged her to stand in front of the restrooms.

"Distract him!" Sam hissed under his breath.

"You distract him." Erica countered hotly.

"As beautiful as I am, I think he'll appreciate your attention more."

Erica scowled up at Sam. "This is the worst plan I've ever heard." she announced.

"You need to hang around Dean more often then." Sam glanced at the thick black doors behind Jerry's desk.

"Ten minutes. I promise." Sam peered down at her imploringly.

"Fine."

Erica began unbuttoning her cardigan. Sam's eyes went wide slightly as she pushed a sleeve off to expose her shoulder and pulled the neckline down lower. She shifted her pants down on her hips revealing a sliver of the pale skin on her stomach.

"Does this say slut?" she grumbled before heading back to Jerry.

His dark green eyes bugged slightly behind his glasses when he looked up from his computer.

"Um, Ms. Petty, did something happen?"

Erica leaned down, almost enjoying her power over him when his eyes trailed obediently to her cleavage.

"Clark got a little too handsy for my taste. Kicked him to the curb."

Jerry glanced behind her at the thankfully empty lobby. Sam had been so silent slipping through the door even Erica had missed it.

"His loss." Jerry muttered glancing between her boobs and her eyes again. Men are too easy.

"Anyway, now I don't have a ride. My phone is dead, would you mind terribly if I used yours?" Erica batted her eyelashes at him and employed her most sickeningly sweet voice.

"It's no trouble at all."

While Jerry dug in his pocket for his phone, Erica ducked behind his desk and sat in a way so that her body would draw his gaze completely opposite of the office doors. He offered it to her after typing in the pass code. Erica smiled and dialed a six digit number before pretending to chatter away with an old friend and catch up.

The doors opened and Sam slithered out. Jerry cocked his head at the slight sound and began to turn. Erica let his phone fall from her hand.

"Oh my god!" She shrieked. Jerry went pale and dove after his precious device.

"I am so sorry. I won't bother you anymore. I'll just walk." Erica gushed.

She dashed after Sam out the door and made it all the way to the car before they both collapsed in relief. Sam pulled them onto the road quickly in order to put as much distance as possible behind them.

Erica fixed her tank top back to its original place and slouched in her seat.

"Please tell me you got the damn opal." she moaned.

Sam reached into his pocket and tossed it at her.

"I feel like a prostitute." she informed him as her fingers traced along the smooth edges.

"Wait, you aren't?"

Erica hit Sam's arm at the comment.

"Don't injure the driver," Sam protested.

"Winchester, you need to just shut your mouth." Erica informed him.

"It worked. You think I'm brilliant." Sam countered.

"With books? Sure. We got lucky back there."

"Lucky you're so beautiful."

Erica pursed her lips. Sam's hand's tensed around the wheel, sensing he'd said too much. She reached down and busied herself with wrapping the opal in an old sweater for safe keepings in her bag.

He kept silent. For once Erica wished he would fill the strained silence. She thought back to Jerry and how her first excuse for her state had been Sam.

Sam, with his nerdy tendencies and large plaid shirts. Sam, who wasn't afraid to admit what he was feeling and who only hunted because he knew his brother needed him.

Sam deserved the truth.

"I think about you a lot." Erica said quietly.

"What?"

She dared a fleeting look over at him and discovered his concentration averted away from the road. She hastily turned her attention back to the sparsely populated highway. His voice had sounded so small and without emotion.

"I know you think I scarcely tolerate you, but that's not true. I do actually like you." Admitting it out loud felt dirty somehow, like she was betraying herself.

Sam opened his mouth prepared to say something but she cut him off. "But we're still hunters, Sam, and when this is over we will go our separate ways. I need you to understand that."

"You don't think I know that already?" Of all the things Sam could have said, Erica had not guessed this. "I don't care what normally happens, E." The use of her nickname made her flinch. "I couldn't give a damn what other hunters do. This is me and you and we don't have to abide by any standards but our own."

"Then abide by mine." Erica replied softly. She did not want to hurt him any more than she already had.

Sam pressed his lips together in a grim smile. "Thank you." he said suddenly. "You could have told me that initially, though. I would have understood."

Erica felt her heart coil in her chest. Sam was too good a person for her. It was better this way.

* * *

><p>The first thing Heather became aware of as she woke up was a bony protrusion pushing its way into her shoulder blade. She rolled over to discover it was indeed Dean's elbow causing the discomfort. After repositioning herself and removing his flailed limb, she allowed herself to enjoy the still and quiet of the motel room.<p>

Dean's steady breathing was the only slight noise. As she snuck a glance at the bare back of the man lying next to her, a realization hit.

She'd never slept with a man so casually before she actually _slept_ _with_ him.

It wasn't an unwelcome thought, just new. Like everything else on the whole trip, basically. Hunting was new, weapons were new, as were monsters and fake IDs and these people. People like Erica, whom she knew for years, who in reality had an entirely different side to her existence. People like Sam, living Heather's life before hunting took over. And definitely people like –

"BOO!" Dean yelled as he suddenly flipped over, making Heather scream and nearly fall off the bed.

"The hell were you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

He laughed at her still-heavy breaths. "Just a little wake-up call, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" Heather mocked as she stepped out of the covers. "Why do I feel like you throw that around a lot?"

"Like you don't have go-to moves."

"You're right." She moved back toward Dean, pressing her mouth to his strongly and dragging on his lower lip as she pulled away. "I have a few." Then it was back to indifferently rummaging through her bag.

"Dammit Heat."

They moved through the rest of their morning routine without incident. Afternoon, however, was a better description, seeing as the microwave clock read '12:00p' shortly after they woke up.

Dean must've also noted the later time because he asked, "So when did my idiot brother and your difficult companion leave?"

"I think they slept in late, too, cause they were just getting ready to leave when I stirred around ten." She continued, "And I think they're actually doing much better. We shouldn't have too much 'difficulty' to worry about."

He shrugged, moving next to her to brush his teeth. "I sure hope so. I can only take so many cold shoulders."

It wasn't until a little while later that Heather tried to find clean jeans to wear, but was unsuccessful. "Dean, am I remembering correctly that there was a laundromat a block away from here?"

He stared at her with a curiously blank expression. "Probably not."

"Oh, c'mon. It's about time for us to run some laundry, we've been on the road for weeks."

"I'd just as soon make a grocery run, we'll run out of poptarts soon." He shot back.

She sighed. "Men."

"And you're a woman. I'm glad we've got that down."

After more of the playful bickering, it was decided that Heather would make the walking trip to the laundromat while Dean drove to go grocery shopping. And of course, their tasks turned into a competition.

_Already got the snacks. _read Dean's first text to her.

_Plaids just finished._

_C'mon Heat, give up. Beers only took me 15 seconds._

_Our jeans and then I'm done. _she fired back.

But despite all her talk, Dean had Heather beat by a good ten minutes, and was very vocal about it as he helped her carry the two bins through the door. The nearly-set sun shone through the window blinds as she wondered whether Dean had ever considered a major in theater.

"Don't mind me, I'll just put the oven on _slow Heat_ for awhile." His goofy cooking pantomime was enough to make Heather break from her bitchface into giggles.

Once food was unpacked and clothes were loaded, Heather had a chance to ask the question that had plagued her wandering thoughts at the laundromat.

"Dean?" she caught the attention of the man as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Are all of your hunts as…travel-laden as this one?"

"You mean as boring and seemingly harmless? Nope. Usually it's a salt-and-burn every few cities, and maybe tracking a vamp nest for a few days before we find the bastards to kill 'em."

She bobbed her head in understanding. "I figured this was a bit different. Cause here I was wondering if hunting was as dangerous as y'all made it out to be."

"Oh, Heat, you have no idea." He laughed, and she could practically feel the memories emanating from him. With a grin still etched on his face, he continued. "And all of this…this driving and dress-up and crap makes a guy antsy for some real action."

He held her gaze intensely, not breaking it despite the obvious double entendre. In response, Heather took a few steps toward his still-seated form. "I'd think so." Her voice was low and breathy, and received the reaction she wanted.

Dean's hands reached for hers, pulling her toward him and then moving to her back, achingly slow. Together they brought her straddled across his lap, and it was his move first as he captured her mouth with his. She melted into him, a quiet gasp escaping as his plush lips skated down her neck. Dipping her head the other way, her hands moved slowly from his neck to shoulders, gently playing with the soft fabric covering them.

Heather felt his mouth curve into a smile, and soon she brought that mouth back up to hers, kissing it with fervor and causing bliss to once again burst behind her closed eyes. His hands maneuvered down her back before resting on her backside, and a definite moan escaped her as he gave a firm squeeze.

It maybe or may not have been added to her bucket list for Dean Winchester to grab her ass like that.

Suddenly his arm locked around her waist and she felt herself rolled over so that Dean was now standing over her. He removed his Henley but not his gaze, leaving his upper body clad only in the black t-shirt. In a flash he was back on top of Heather, exchanging strong kisses. She raked her fingers through his short dark strands of hair, relishing every sensation.

Their lips were still locked when he first fiddled with the hem of her shirt, and he hesitated. She pulled back to look him straight in the eyes, and nodded to the unspoken question.

Heaven almighty, yes she wanted this.

Heather allowed him to lift her tee off and let the floor claim it. The only inkling of insecurity that tried to invade her thoughts vanished as Dean muttered, "Goddamn, Heat."

It was his turn to remove his last top layer, and she smirked approvingly. In a surprising move, he also undid his jeans, and Heather took this as her cue to scoot herself fully onto the bed as his denim hit the floor. She casually laid back against the pillows, matching his carnal stare as he leisurely crept toward her. His calloused fingers carefully trailed up the outside of her shorts and bare side, causing goosebumps to go rushing down her spine.

She let Dean get all the way on top of her before she executed her move, quickly rolling him over so that now she once again sat on top of him, hips pressed to hips. His mouth hung slightly open in eager anticipation, and she did not disappoint. In an effort to show her appreciation thus far, she wriggled out of her own shorts, tossing them aside. She barely had time to thank her lucky stars that she was wearing some of her nicest panties before his hands gripped her forearms and tugged her down toward him again.

Once again mouths were attached, pressing again and again as hands roamed the other's form. He was surprisingly tender with his movements, caressing nearly every inch that she needed. Heather then skimmed her fingers down his toned chest, lips following suit to trace and kiss the sensitive skin. Pride welled inside her as Dean's breath caught in his throat at her ministrations. She slowly brought herself face-level with him again, arching her back to be flush against him.

His hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her yet again, and the other was used to flip them over once more. Heather savored the friction between their bodies and nearly clawed at Dean's back as his lips once again pressed methodically down her neck. He found a spot in the dip of her collarbone to graze his teeth over, and it was now she with the breathing problems as the nibbling drove her over the moon.

Somehow lips found lips again, and her fingers gently played with his biceps. His hands were at work too, seeking every inch of her uncovered skin.

"Dean." she breathed as his hand came to rest on her inner thigh.

"Mm." he mumbled against her jaw in understanding.

Together they reached for the top of the covers, clambering under the sheets. As the white fabric billowed around them, Dean settled on top of Heather, skin and warmth mixing feverishly. His thumb hooked in the waistband of her underwear as they locked eyes, and she pressed her lips gently to his, urging him on.

* * *

><p>The afterglow was something else. Feet were tangled, Heather's head was rested on his shoulder, Dean's fingers softly brushed the outside of her arm. Contented breathing was the only noise penetrating the otherwise silent room.<p>

"Tired of doing all the work for them, hm?" She teased, attempting to run a hand through her knotted locks.

He briefly tickled her side in retaliation, grinning at her sudden giggles. "We had our own work to do, and don't say you weren't damn glad we had the place to ourselves."

On cue, from the bedside table Heather's phone buzzed with a text.

_Sorry we're a bit late, Sam and I stopped for a bite. Be home in a few._

She silently thanked her friend for the extra alone time, whether Erica had intended it or not. After relaying the message to Dean, he chuckled.

"We could just stay right here, give 'em a little scare. Don't ya know Sammy just loves accidently coming home to this."

"Yeah, tough luck on that one." she retorted, not bothering to cover herself as she crossed the room to retrieve some leggings. "I'm not in the mood to give anybody a mental picture of us."

Dean's smirk made her ache to be on top of him again. "We're one hell of a sight."

They slowly re-clothed themselves, still sneaking approving glances while the other's back was turned.

Dean didn't even fuss as Heather slipped his Henley on, anticipating the look on his brother's face once the realization hit.

**Hope you loved it! As always, lemme know what your thoughts**


	14. Chapter 14

**Best wishes to all of you lovely readers that have already headed back to school, and to those like me who start back this coming week! Stay fandom-strong, ladies and gents!**

**I also am pleased to hear that y'all enjoyed all the fun plot points that occurred last chapter ;)**

**and now, enjoy this next one!**

Chapter 14

"So get this." Sam chirped from his spot on the motel couch, laptop open to various web pages.

Dean grunted, nursing his coffee and trying to not burn himself on the dark liquid. "Could ya wait, Sammy? Not all of us are perky ten minutes after we open our eyes."

His brother gave an eye-roll before Erica chimed in with a distressed note. "Either of you know where my gun went?"

"Well after we cleaned them last night, I thought we put 'em all back in the right places." Dean answered. "It was dark, though, so check Heat's bag or something."

"Check my bag for what?" Heather came traipsing out of the bathroom, deodorant in tow.

Erica leaned out of her friend's bag and held up the revolver in question. "Don't really think you'd need this. I'm not sure how your red duffel resembles my back one, but...uh, Heat? What're you doing?"

Heather's hands were roaming around the bed, searching under the covers. "I lost the hair-tie from my wrist sometime last night and I need it."

"Wow," the elder Winchester laughed, "and Sam, I thought it was just you who had trouble keeping track of your stuff. But losing guns, hair-ties? What's next, they're gonna forget me and you somewhere?"

Heather shot him a warning glance before her palm closed around something metal, and her face contorted into a troubled expression. She pulled out Dean's handgun from underneath his pillow and slowly rotated to face him. "What's this doing here?"

"You never know what might attack while you're sleeping."

Weeks with hunters and she could still be surprised by them. It never ended. Then another thought struck her. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that it's safe, Dean, but what if I'd found this…at _any _time yesterday? Would've made for a curious turn."

A nearly diabolical half-smile etched its way onto Sam's face, one that his brother had come to dread. "So, I'm sure I have no idea what you're referring to, but wow. Almost had a bit of gun play, Dean? Even for you, man, that's pretty kinky."

"Alright Sam, what'd you have to share with us earlier?" Erica redirected, rescuing the two from Sam's further teasing. She wasn't expecting his total audacity with the subject, but figured that's what Heather gets for still wearing Dean's shirt. In any case, they all had a job to get done.

"So, a scale from an albino alligator," he began with a trace of the smile still lingering, "our last object. Only zoo that has one on this side of the Rockies is in Tupelo, Mississippi."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "You don't mean…"

"Yeah, we'll have to get it right from the alligator ourselves."

"Sam, we're hunters, not friggin' Steve Irwin. How the hell are we supposed to wrestle a gator without losing limbs?"

"Does the zoo have footage of their keepers with the gators?" Heather asked, sidling up to Sam and pointing at the zoo's web page. "Maybe you can pick up a few tips from them."

A few clicks and taps later and a grainy video feed popped up on the screen. "This is one of the daily feeding videos that the zoo posts." Sam scrolled down and skimmed the description. "This is from yesterday."

The four watched in silence, noting the keepers' yard-long poles they kept with them at all times. There definitely was an albino alligator, its white scales glaring in contrast to the dark surrounding foliage. Dean audibly gulped when one of the gators snapped its jaws powerfully around meat dangled in the water.

As the video ended, something caught Heather's eye that made her stomach bottom out. "Wait, rewind a bit." she said breathlessly, hoping to every deity that she was wrong. She made Sam pause the video when one of the khaki-clad keepers was facing the camera.

"Can you isolate his face?" He zoomed in, and there it was.

The man had red eyes.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered, dragging a hand over his face. "The Rougarous. They've figured it out, and they're waiting for us. Dammit! We should've been more discreet."

Sam sighed heavily, the full weight of the knowledge hitting him. "So this is gonna be a hell of a lot more dangerous than we thought."

After much deliberation, it had been decided that the Winchesters would be the ones to retrieve the alligator scale, and hopefully avoid any Rous while they were at it. And so the car was loaded and soon dust was trailing behind them.

It was almost as if they were snapping back into reality. No longer was this the light-hearted road trip rhythm they'd settled into for awhile; a stop here or there, flashing fake badges or scooting around security were not the biggest troubles anymore.

The Rougarous were.

But even with the impending danger, the foursome did their best to make the drive down to northern Mississippi a normal one.

Kentucky's lush farmlands rolled by the Impala's windows, and a lunch stop in Nashville marked their halfway point to Tupelo. After a few more hours of Dean's Zeppelin album and a stolen kiss or two, Heather was unlocking the room in the motel four blocks from the zoo.

"Eh Sammy, check it out. They knew I was coming!" Dean held the sleeve of his red plaid shirt against the towels laying on the bed, and sure enough, the patterns were strikingly similar.

Sam scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips before fading away. "I just hope the Rous don't actually know we're here yet."

The mood sombered once again, and he apologized against Erica's frown. But then she softened her face and said, "Let's get y'all prepared, Sam. Then we'll all feel better."

The remaining hours until sunset passed quickly as zoo maps and weapons were spread out on the floor. They finally put to use the Argan oil Bobby had supplied them with, small bottles of it shoved deep into Winchester pockets.

By the time the brothers skirted out the door into the evening darkness, Erica's fingers had traced their path through the zoo countless times. Heather had taken to pacing the length of the room, tying and undoing her hair as the nervous habit of choice. She paused long enough to lock eyes with her friend and gave her strongest smile.

And the waiting began.

* * *

><p>Erica had allotted them two hours maximum to return before she locked Heather in the room and went after them herself. They were back even before the first hour rounded to a close. The initial sound of the Impala pulling into a parking space outside their room set her heart into a relieved buzz.<p>

Then she heard Sam's strained groan of pain.

Heather was closest to the door and wrenched it open before either brother could produce a key. Dean strolled in with streaks of blood down his jaw and onto his plaid shirt. At least none of it appeared to be his own.

"What happened?" Erica asked when Sam came in.

He was holding his right arm to his side and a towel was wrapped around his upper bicep. His tan face was a few shades lighter, but he didn't give off any expression that the injury caused him pain.

"Sammy got a little too frisky with one of the Rous and it left him with a love bite." Dean shucked off his bloody shirts and sat down on the couch.

Erica was already moving to her medical bag that she always carried with her and pouring through the antibiotics and gauzes.

"Oh god, Sam. Are you gonna be ok?" Heather asked.

"Don't buy into the kicked puppy act, Heat. That's how he gets all his female attention." Dean tutted and pulled her to sit between his legs on the couch.

"Sam." Erica beckoned him over to sit on her bed.

"Look, Dean. She has actual medicine as opposed to alcohol." Sam called.

Dean called something sarcastic and half-offensive back before poking Heather's side playfully. Erica twisted her long wavy hair up into a bun so it would stay out of her face while she worked.

"I can do it, honestly, E." Sam said.

She hit his hands away while she untied the towel. "Just hold still."

Erica pried back the layers of his clothes delicately, checking to see how deep the wound went. "Sam, can you take your shirts off?" she asked.

Sam nodded and gingerly removed the two shirts. Erica counted herself lucky that it was warm out and he hadn't bothered with a jacket that day. What little the towel had done to relieve the bleeding was now gone. The bite mark let out a slow trickle of blood down his arm. Sam drew a sharp breath when she pressed the edge lightly.

"It didn't go through the epidermis. You're lucky. Any deeper and more than capillaries would have been broken."

Sam laughed in a breathless way when she dapped an antiseptic wipe over the wound. "I feel really lucky." he mused.

"Open." Erica instructed, holding three pills in her hand.

"I can take medicine, E. I'm not in a vegetable state yet." he teased her.

She sighed and passed him a bottle of water as well. Sam relayed the events of their trip while Erica worked to sew up his arm. He talked to distract himself; it was a good method, Erica thought. Too often she found herself swept up in her thoughts and unable to convey any of them.

Finally she tied off the thread and set down the needle. She took another wipe and began to clear away the remaining blood.

"How's it feel?" she asked.

"Good." Sam replied softly.

Erica cocked her head at first, recounting how many pain pills she'd given him. Then, she turned to face him and found her answer: not enough. She could pick out little flecks of green and amber in his hazel eyes that close. They were entirely too sober and too focused on her. Maybe Dean's alcohol method wasn't such a terrible idea after all.

Her hand stilled its movements and she found her knuckles resting on the soft skin below his stiches. He raised his left hand and caught the small hairs at the back of her neck that never quite stayed where they were told. Tingles of delight ran down her spine and she found herself leaning into his touch.

She felt a little drugged now that she thought about it, but this was solely Sam's doings. She'd grown so used to him, so comforted just by his presence. Erica saw his intentions; he meant to kiss her. She also knew he would let her stop him. For a brief moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to feel his lips pressed over hers. Then, she caught herself, and cursed herself. She had come entirely too close to breaking her own rules.

Sam saw the change in her demeanor and sat back with a flutter of his lips.

"Just take it easy for a while." she told him.

He hummed when he nodded and let his eyes flicker to hers for only a second. It was enough to bring back the memories of his light touch. Erica hastily repacked her medical supplies and glared at the couple who had been silently watching from the couch.

For once Dean didn't have a comment.

Erica busied herself with picking up all their maps which were still scattered about the floors. Too often, she'd find her eyes drawn to Sam. Only once was he looking back. She saw a flash of something that sent her stomach into vicious knots. It was something she recognized from the looks her parents exchanged: adoration and love.

Erica thought about confronting Sam and demanding to know if he loved her and if so why was he foolish enough to let that happen after all her warnings. _He said he understood. _Erica's thoughts grumbled.

But she didn't ask.

Erica didn't ask because the thought of him saying yes terrified her more than if he were to say no.

Then she'd have to confront her own feelings and she was doing an upstanding job of locking those away where they belonged. She couldn't allow feelings to factor into this job.

She feared, however, she wouldn't have much of a say in that matter so long as Sam kept looking at her like that. She could not guarantee her restraint against him again. The next time he tried to kiss her, she might just let him.

**Don't forget to review, all you wonderful people!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the longer-than-normal wait, darlings! I'm proud to share this next chapter with y'all **

**Much love :)**

Chapter 15

"Man, am I glad it's summer."

Dean could have been referring to the extended daylight hours, or maybe the lack of chilling wind to work in. People tended to be in better moods in the summertime, too.

But most likely his reference was to the warm weather, so warm that the woman lying beside him had removed her shirt during the night. His lips found the unobstructed skin at her back and neck, pressing unspoken morning greetings into her flesh.

Heather felt the pleasant tingles spread through her nerves, and she rolled over with a lazy smile. "G'morning to you, too."

"Ready to head back to your stomping grounds today?"

"Yeah, I think…" she trailed off, noticing the bluish bruise blossoming across his lower jaw. Despite all of her gentle caresses last night to reassure herself of his safety, this had apparently escaped her notice. She gingerly touched it, looking back at his eyes for an answer. "Dean, what's this?"

He captured her hand in his, moving it away from the injury. "Sammy's not the only one that had to get up close and personal with a couple Rous. But I'm fine, Heat. Please don't play nurse with me." A corner of his mouth twisted up as he added, "I mean, if you put a little dress on I wouldn't be opposed."

"You're a pig." Heather swatted him away, a smile contradicting her words. She watched him as he settled back against the pillows, soaking in a few more minutes of calm before the day's activities began.

Sunbeams falling through the window's dusty glass accentuated one of Dean's less prominent features: his freckles. The gentle dusting of faded brown spots extended across his nose and cheekbones, some down his jaw and chin as well. Evidence of long hours in the sun, as hunting would no doubt bring.

Erica entering the motel room was enough to pull Heather out of her freckle-laden thoughts.

"Yeah, Bobby, in the next couple days." She was finishing a phone conversation. "Thanks again for all your help."

Heather stood, tugging on a clean shirt for the day and nodding to her friend. "Everything alright, E?"

"Yeah, Bobby was just giving me a rough estimate of where we should be able to find the alpha once we make it to New Orleans."

"Emphasis on that last part." Sam interjected, coming in from yet another a.m. run. "We have to get to New Orleans first."

_Seriously, does this guy ever stop high-tailing it every morning?_

"Then get your ass in and out of the shower real fast, road runner. Eight-hour haul ahead of us." Dean quipped. As he walked by Heather, he whispered, "And I can't wait to see what kind of longing gazes they come up with this time."

She giggled, remembering Sam and Erica's locked eyes from the night before. She and Dean had done their best to ignore it, but the tension the other two had created was pretty hard to combat.

It seemed of no import, though, as the group set out for the Crescent City.

As usual, Metallica was blaring, Erica snuck in a nap, and Sam worked on whatever little puzzle books he used to pass the time. Heather, however, quietly allowed her mind to wander through whatever paths it chose.

She thought of her mother, thankful she wasn't worried about the "road trip" her daughter was taking. Berkeley also crossed her mind, the schooling and research she'd have to throw herself back into upon the end of the hunt.

Wow, the end of the hunt.

It was indeed coming to a foreseeable close, faster and more dangerously than Heather had prepared herself for. They'd soon be back in prime Rougarou territory, and intending to kill the alpha for gods sake!

_Get a grip, Heat. _she chided herself. No need to get ahead of the situation. She had three great hunters around her to get the job done.

And a pair of green eyes to keep her all sorts of company.

* * *

><p>The four slid into a booth of the creole diner a little after sunset. With promises of delicious seafood on the way, Sam pulled out a map of the city.<p>

"According to Bobby's tracking and research, we should be able to find the alpha Rou somewhere between Jackson Square and Canal Street."

Heather's voice matched his lowered tone. "We have to be near the alpha to kill it?"

He and Dean nodded solemnly. "Find it, distract it, and perform the ritual."

Erica's phone rang and, for the second time that day, she stepped away to take a call.

"Hey dad." she answered.

"Hey kiddo. How's your hunting trip with Heather and the Winchesters going?"

"It's rounding to a close." Erica informed him.

"Oh yeah? Here I was thinking it would never end." he joked.

She smiled halfheartedly. She was actually not anticipating parting with the boys; she'd come to regard them quite fondly.

"You gonna swing by us before heading out again?" he asked.

"Sure." she murmured. Erica's mind had wandered to the Winchester brother she thought of with more than just fondness. She was certain there were real feelings for Sam in her that she was only now unearthing. All the time spent pushing him away seemed to have no effect on her heart. It was easier to admit now that she could see the end of their journey.

What Erica couldn't quite conjure up as well as she used to was splitting from them. They'd become such an incredible unit over this trip and the thought of going back to hunting on her own was not as satisfying as it had once been.

"E, hey, you sound really out of it. I'm gonna let you go. I'll let your mom know you're coming by soon. Tell Heather hello from us." her dad spoke.

"I will." she assured him.

Erica hung up and tucked her phone under her arm against the chilly night air. She could see the last motel they would stay at together a few blocks over. The streetlamps that illuminated the roads had to fight through a thin fog that night.

"E, we're ready to order. I just wanted to make sure a poboy was ok with you. That's what Dean and Heather are getting." Sam poked his head out the door.

Erica pulled her loose braid over her shoulder as she turned to nod assent at him.

"You ok? I thought you were on the phone." he called.

"I finished." Erica replied softly.

Sam stepped out and made his way over to her. A small family with thick Jersey accents passed by jabbering loudly about the swamps they were sure to find all over Louisiana. Erica rolled her eyes at the assumption that was always made about her home state.

"You know, I've actually yet to see a swamp." Sam input.

"You have failed as a tourist." Erica responded.

"Then you'll just have to fix that and show me the state."

Erica looked over as his hazel eyes crinkled with a tentative smile.

"You planning on sticking around a while, Sam?"

Sam swatted a gnat away from his hair and successfully disheveled the brown mass. "If I have a reason to." he said turning to peer down at her.

Erica sighed and reached up to put his hair back into place. She could see the slight rosy dust on his cheeks and the way he faintly cocked his head to watch her reaction.

"Sam." Erica sighed his name and rocked back on her heels. How could she explain all the warring emotions within her? That she understood she wanted to be with him, but simultaneously knew better. "We haven't talked about yesterday." she said.

Sam didn't ask for clarification. He knew exactly what part of yesterday she was referring to: the almost kiss.

"I didn't think you wanted to." he admitted.

"I don't know what I want anymore. I mean I do. It's just…conflicting."

"Erica Lacour isn't a hundred percent certain what she wants? Hold on. let me get out my phone so I can record this moment."

"I wanted to kiss you." Erica promptly cut off his jesting with that comment.

"Is that so? I recall you definitely not kissing me." Sam returned.

Erica had to make herself focus on something besides his lips forming over the word 'kissing.' She looked to the sparsely filled parking lot. She spotted the Impala with dirt from the day's drive caked above the wheels. She could see her books spread out over the back seat mixing with Sam's puzzles. Heather's maps were on the dash and Dean's cassettes were open and sprawled between the driver and passenger seats.

"Would you really come back just for me?" she asked suddenly.

Sam didn't hesitate with his response. He always seemed to know what she was going to say before she got it out. "You're not a 'just', E."

Erica felt her heart leap in anticipation of what she was to do next. For a second, she couldn't breathe. It wasn't like her to get nervous and she sure as hell wasn't about to chicken out now.

Sam held very still when Erica first pressed her lips to his. He didn't want to frighten her off, she suspected. So she kissed him with more fervor and felt him finally respond.

And it was glorious.

She silently cursed herself for not kissing him every chance she had before this. She was lost in the kiss before she could recall they were in public. Sam locked his arms behind her back, crushing their forms together. Erica's hands were pressed to the sides of his face to keep him as close as possible.

One of the kids from the Jersey family came outside the diner with keys jingling in his hand. He froze seeing them, let out some sort of imperceptible squeak, and bolted back inside. Sam forcibly pulled himself back, fingers fisting into the back of Erica's cardigan.

"I can stop." he whispered, drilling soberness into his voice.

"Bullshit." Erica whispered roughly.

Sam's eyes darkened as he said, "Yeah."

Sam sent a quick and vague text to Dean before they set off for the motel room. Erica scratched her nails against the inside of her palms with each step. The tension was eating her up. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him again till her lips ached and perhaps remove the numerous layers of clothing between them. Every time Sam tenaciously brushed their hands together, she felt the knot of need grow more and more prominent. If she didn't properly touch him soon, she feared she would take him in the nearest alley.

The door was hardly open when Erica brought her mouth back to Sam's. He fumbled for the door and caught a jagged breath. Erica had long marveled at how toned he kept his body. Now she eagerly peeled off his jacket and shirts so she could drag her hands purposefully across his tan and muscled skin.

The backs of her thighs were caught as Sam picked her up from the ground. Erica found her spine pressed against the faded floral wallpaper of the motel. She could distantly identify the scent of the cleaning products the staff used on the room, but currently Sam was the only thing her body cared about registering.

She felt his warm hands on her bare shoulder blades which were exposed by the dark blue tank top she wore, wondering when Sam had taken the cardigan off her. His lips and hands traveled south simultaneously. Erica let her mouth part and eyes shut tightly at the feeling of unadulterated bliss that settled over her. Sam kissed across her collar bone to her breast bone and down still. When he reached the end of the skin exposed by Erica's shirt, he shifted her so he could cast that too on the floor.

"Bed." Erica breathed.

"Not yet." Sam murmured, sucking her lower lip slightly when he kissed her.

A sensation of shivers ran along her spine at his husky voice. She was not accustomed to Sam in this state or him being so very much in control, but she was growing addicted to it rather rapidly. Sam unclasped her bra and looked up to Erica with a smirk that made her push his chest so that her feet touched the ground. He watched her hungrily as she pushed her own jeans and panties down and tugged the now distressed braid from her hair.

Erica approached him, relishing in his audible swallow. Sam dipped his head to kiss her once more, hands not seeking permission before exploring the unadorned expanse of her skin. Erica wasted no time finding the button and zipper of his jeans and quickly discarded the garment.

She hooked the waistband of his boxers and led him over to her bed. Erica shoved her duffel to the floor and laid back expectantly. Sam just stared at her for a moment and looked like he might say something. Instead, he pulled back the covers and they both moved under them.

**Would LOVE to hear what y'all have to say about the road so far! ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Wow, y'all have never been more than a week with an update, and I applaud you for bearing with me in my busy times!**

**Also, I'm glad to hear from so many of you in the comments that you're enjoying it, please keep it up! Mwah!**

**Just so nobody's confused, this first bit is kind of a rewind to the diner, more from Dean and Heat's perspective…:)**

**Ok carry on darlings!**

Chapter 16

The golden lighting in the diner softly reflected off the drinking glasses distributed at every cloth-covered table, including the water that sat in front of Heather. She swirled her straw around the rim for the third time, then snapped her head up as Dean did the same.

"Are you copying me?"

"Dammit Heat, you're sharp." he cracked a grin. "Always takes Sammy forever to figure it out."

"Oh yeah, they teach you some pretty cool things in law school these days. Noticing people's replication of movements is definitely one of them." she teased.

Dean tilted his head at her. "How to be a smartass, too?"

Heather's mock-hurt expression was discredited by the smile that spread on her mouth. She and that leather-clad hunter had maintained their wonderfully flirtatious rapport so well, and that could've kept her smiling for hours.

But the grin did fade as a different thought crossed her mind. "Where's Sam?"

"Don't know, it shouldn't take that long to say 'poboy' and give thumbs up or down."

She nodded, "E probably made him wait 'til she got off the phone, she did that to me all the time."

Dean shared her knowing smile, then glanced to his phone as it chirped. His eyes widened and cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, but he didn't have time to explain because of the waitress returning to their table.

"Where's your friends, hon? They still want those poboys?"

"No ma'am, they had to head home." he answered with a signature grin, ignoring Heather's quizzical gaze. "He gets nasty acid reflux sometimes, but he'll be fine."

The waitress nodded and skirted away, leaving the hunter and the blonde at what was now a table for two. Woulda-coulda been romantic, but that wasn't the goal right then.

"Sam doesn't have acid reflux." Heather stated, leaning back to survey Dean and his peculiar behavior.

"But he does have your friend and an empty hotel room to head back to." He waited for her to catch his drift before he showed her the text: _Well b back later. _"Sam never forgets apostrophes, and always spells everything out."

She pursed her lips, still not accepting his explanation. "A lack of apostrophes doesn't mean sex."

"It does for my brother." he implored. "Trust me on this, Heat, I'm just glad he was generous enough to give us a warning. There's no way we're heading back there soon."

And it was in that moment that Heather knew more about Sam Winchester's sex life than she ever wanted to.

They finished their meal in relative peace, becoming more at ease as the thought of motel room activities grew dimmer and dimmer. The waitress was all but shoving the check at them by the time Dean finally stood and nodded toward the door.

Heather followed him and together they slowly strolled out into the warm summer air. The night sky was cloudy, but thankfully held no promise of rain. Dean's eyes trailed to the Impala where it was parked on the curb, but neither of them made a move toward the car. Instead, in silent agreement, they walked in the other direction.

Their hands bumped together twice before Dean grandiosely offered her his arm, which she linked loosely with hers.

"We shouldn't be outside much longer," Heather mused, "it's not terribly safe out here."

He broke into a wide grin. "Not in the mood to play damsel in distress again?"

"Bingo."

"So what, Sammy leaves and you get nervous? Geez, thanks for the faith, sweetheart." His eyes caught hers, enticing her comeback.

Instead she rolled her eyes away, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer. Dean's gaze darted behind her briefly, then he said, "Think fast, Heat."

She felt herself pulled flush against him by her elbows, and immediately he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. As he pulled away, Heather noticed the same loud family from New Jersey they'd seen in the diner. They could be heard from across the street complaining about the "damn southern PDA".

"Show-off." she muttered, beaming at him in the low lighting of the streetlamp.

They soon fell into silence again, aimlessly strolling arm in arm to waste time. After Heather denied Dean's request for a swing by Bourbon Street, she had nearly run out of ideas on how to occupy them by the time he nudged her ribs.

Following his gaze, she saw a brightly-lit building with an even brighter sign reading _Now Showing_ and a list of titles under it.

"How's a movie sound for a bit more of a sober night?"

She nodded eagerly, a smirk playing at her lips. "Dinner and a movie, Dean? Thought you'd never take me on a proper date."

"Proper date?" came his amused reply. "I've taken you swimming and to an estate sale, and already bought you plenty of dinners. When do I get credit?"

"When you buy the popcorn."

They approached the ticket window and briefly browsed the show selection before landing on _300._ What's a little Gerard Butler and ancient gore to keep things interesting.

"Dude, you girlfriend came to see _300_ with you?" the ticket clerk gushed. "Great chick."

Dean gave a tight-lipped smile, crushing Heather to his side when the clerk's eyes roamed a bit too low. "Yeah, I consider myself a lucky man."

_Well at least I'm not the only one who can get jealous. _Heather smiled inwardly, taking the tickets and steering Dean inside.

"It's been forever since I've been to an actual theater." she said, changing the subject.

He laughed. "Wow, you must really hole yourself up at Berkeley, Heat." There was a pause before he turned to her suddenly. "_Heat_! Wow, that was a great flick. Pacino, de Niro, I'd totally forgotten about it!"

She listened to him ramble while they made their way to the right screen room, and soon they were exchanging half-hearted pinky promises to not act like horny teenagers in the back of the theater.

Before he sat down, Dean handed her the popcorn and discreetly removed the pistol that had been tucked in the back waistband of his jeans, placing it in an inside pocket of his jacket. "Can't have that messing up my comfort."

Heather just nodded, refusing to be surprised that Dean had the weapon with him. Instead, she tossed a buttery kernel in her mouth and focused on the previews as they began playing in the dark room.

The movie kept her attention for a decent amount of time before a middle-aged man had to squeeze by her seat. Her mind wandered after him, and she finally faced the thought she'd been keeping at bay for a few days.

That man could turn around and have red eyes or maybe pop out some vampire teeth. Hell, someone could even be a ghost and she wouldn't know. And that was the problem.

She wouldn't ever be able to go back to her normal life.

Not without serious suspicions, at least. She now knew of this whole other side of life on earth (and apparently beyond). Who knew what kind of monsters were near Berkeley, maybe hiding in plain sight? And there were probably some pretty strong spells she could make out of materials in her apartment pantry.

The danger is definitely what worried her the most, though. She didn't own a gun and knew almost nothing of how to ward off monsters in general. And soon she wouldn't have Erica or the Winchesters around to protect her.

Not have Dean around? That'd be weird. _C'mon, would you even have been interested in him in your normal life? _A bit of self-questioning revealed that, yes, anybody she could have that kind of chemistry with would definitely be on her radar.

But without this Rou hunt, they likely would have never met, so at least she could count it good for a little something.

And that same hunt was going to be over soon. It slowly dawned on Heather that she wasn't sure how well she could readjust to normal civilian life, but being a lawyer was still her top aspiration.

_So how the hell am I supposed to proceed?_

Thankfully, Dean drew her out of her thoughts before she fell too deep. She felt him rubbing small circles on the denim-covered skin of her thigh, and looked over to his expectant eyes.

"You good?"

She nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to his mouth. "Peachy, thanks."

Heather was able to watch the rest of the movie in mental peace, more focused on Dean's hands or lips whenever relevant. When the credits began rolling, the pair stood and stretched before once again heading outside.

Glances at watches revealed that it was in the wee hours of the morning, and prayers were sent up that it was safe to venture back to the motel room.

"Baby, I'm sure glad nobody messed with you!" Dean fondly addressed his car, making Heather giggle. He walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, gesturing to the seat. "Ma'am."

She folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to start the engine before remarking, "Well, Dean, thanks for the date."

"Strangely enough, you have our companions to thank for that, actin' like damn rabbits." He sighed, thumbs drumming the steering wheel. "But no problem, Heat, my pleasure."

The motel was just two blocks away, so it barely took ten minutes to arrive, park, and make their way up to room 211. Dean slid the key in the lock and the door opened silently. The room was dark, but not too dark so as to hide the two sleeping figures tangled up in the closest bed.

"Ah, seriously?!" Dean harshly whispered, holding up Sam's boxers that had been discarded on the free bed.

Heather's low tone matched his. "Don't worry, we'll give 'em plenty of hell in the morning."

* * *

><p>Sleeping with men was not a foreign concept to Erica, sexually or innocently. Sleeping beside Sam Winchester was entirely different than anything she had ever encountered, but Erica found herself adjusting rapidly. Sam was fast asleep with his brown hair draped across his face in sweaty tangles. Erica couldn't seem to calm her racing mind. She was either thinking about the future or the very recent past, such as Sam groaning her name into the crook of her neck. So, she just let Sam clutch her close while he slept.<p>

A few hours later, when her eyes were heavy but her thoughts were active, Sam shifted his arm from under her. He grunted and slowly flexed his fingers.

"My arm fell asleep." he announced with his voice only half working.

Erica didn't respond but pushed herself up onto her elbow. Sam's eyes grew wide with alarm at her serious expression.

He shifted to face her as well. "Why'd you do that?" he murmured.

"You mean why did I have sex with you?" Erica asked.

Sam had pushed the covers to their waists some time in his sleep so that both of their upper halves were exposed. Erica reached out to touch his flushed cheek and he caught her hand. He hooked it behind his neck and moved so there was hardly breathing room between them.

"Yes." Sam replied.

Erica pondered ways to phrase it. She couldn't seem to find enough or correct words to describe the swell of her heart whenever she thought about him.

She smiled sleepily at him. "Because it's you, Sam."

"That's a great explanation." He kissed her forehead lazily and let out a long breath. "It really doesn't matter. You wouldn't have done it if you didn't want to."

His eyes flickered shut again for so long Erica was sure he was asleep. "You could come with us." he whispered. "Me and Dean. We could use a steady hand like yours when we're hunting."

He pursed his lips when she shook her head. "Then what? Go back to hunting by yourself?" he questioned.

"Well, I can't just stop. It's who I am. It's something I need in my life."

Sam was unusually quiet. Erica squeezed his arm to get his attention. "But I need you too. I'm just not sure what I'm gonna do about that yet."

Sam didn't move or reply. Finally, he rolled onto his back, draping her arm across his chest. "Just promise that you'll let me help you decide. I can't make the decision for you, but you don't have to be alone, E."

"I don't want to be."

Erica pulled up the covers to her chin and finally let herself relax into Sam's side.

The next time she woke up, there was a distinctly female giggle coming from the bathroom. Erica could hear toothbrushes working away and water running. She sat up with such force her elbow went into Sam's shoulder. She dove for clothes on the floor before Dean or Heather could exit the bathroom.

"Ow, damn. Is this how you always say good morning?" Sam grumbled to his pillow.

Erica shoved his pants at him. "Get dressed!" she hissed, promptly pulling on the random shirt and shorts she'd grabbed from her duffel. Sam's eyes widened, fully awake now. He cursed again and rummaged to get his lower half covered as Dean poked his head out of the bathroom.

"Note to Sammy, next time just spell out sex instead of sending me that unbearable grammatically incorrect text." Dean said with a devious smile.

Heather strolled out of the bathroom, swinging her headband around her wrist and sidling up next to Dean, who smirked again.

"So I have to ask, who initiated it? Cause Heat has money that it was Sam, but I think our hunter Erica over here is secretly very…"

"You know what, Dean? We don't ask for specifics on you guys, so don't ask about us." Sam mussed his bedhead and rolled to his feet. Erica's eyes scanned down his back, seeing eight half-moon marks just above the waist band of his jeans. She drew a deep breath at the memory. She had most definitely had sex with Sam.

"Come on, Sammy. Help your brother win $20." Dean pleaded.

Sam ignored him and went right into the shower. Erica shifted under Heather's gaze and picked at the fraying sleeves of her shirt. Dean clapped his hands together and said something about needing to breathe non-polluted air. When he clomped out the door, Heather seated herself beside Erica.

"You ok? You used a condom, right? There was no alcohol involved?" she questioned the brunette girl.

"You owe him $20." Erica nodded to the door.

Heather laughed and smoothed the sheets around her. "Have you two talked? What are you going to do now?"

"Not screw in our shared motel room. I am so sorry. I was not thinking, well, I mean I was, but all I thought about was Sam and how sick I was of denying what I felt. And now we…I guess we just see where it goes." Erica shrugged her shoulders and locked her fingers together in her lap.

Heather looped her arm around her friend's shoulders. "I'm happy for you. A little grossed out, but mostly happy."

And Erica felt happy too.


End file.
